


At The Dark End Of The Street

by buttonmybutton



Category: Glee
Genre: Bullying, Car Sex, Come Marking, Dave is kind of an asshole, First Time, Homophobic Language, Kurt Is Kind Of An Asshole, Light Bondage, M/M, Manhandling, Rough Sex, Santana Is Kind Of An Asshole, Season 2 Fix-It, Secret Relationship, Semi-Public Sex, Slow Build, Stupid Stupid Teenagers, misogynistic language, teenagers having sex, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-03-04 07:15:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 41,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2962394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttonmybutton/pseuds/buttonmybutton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the best of all possible Season Twos the glee club members are infinitesimally nicer to each other- ensuring that Kurt never goes to Dalton, his continued presence averts at least some of their tiresome drama, his friends do the bare minimum to protect him, so that Dave's bullying never has an opportunity to escalate, and Kurt and Dave have time to develop the relationship they were meant to have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy this Season 2 fix-it that I have been planning since Season 2! Kurt is canonically significantly older than his classmates. For the purposes of this story, both Dave and Kurt turn 18 early in the 2nd semester of their junior year, and are of age before their sexual relationship begins. This story is through Kurt's POV; Kurt opinions do not necessarily reflect the author's opinions.
> 
> I would love to hear from you, but it is my firm policy never to reply to reviews. I neither own nor profit from Glee or any of the songs referenced in this work. Specific warnings are at the end of each chapter.
> 
> There will be some unavoidable Klaine in this story, but I have not tagged it because it is brief and uncomplimentary to Blaine, and I always resent it when Kurtofsky is tagged in something that is clearly anti-Kurtofsky. All background relationships are more or less as canon in Season 2 but with fewer break-ups and infidelity.

When Puck made his oh-so-sensitive suggestion that he go spy on ‘The Garglers’ during their boys vs. girls planning session- rather than taking the suggestion literally, Kurt went to the girls and complained, because they had been unusually sympathetic towards him during their lunchtime gossip session.

 

He was grateful for Rachel and her big mouth, just this once, when she dragged him back to the boys and harangued them for twenty minutes about hate speech, homophobia, and how verbal bullying was just as insidious as the physical bullying practiced by the likes of Karofsky and Azimio. Finn began to look genuinely contrite when she started in about leadership qualities and loyalty, especially after she pointedly asked Kurt which of a certain someone’s actions had hurt him the most - being tossed in a dumpster before they had ever been friends, or hearing the f-word from someone who was supposed to be on his side? Even Puck started to look guilty when she brought up pee balloons.

 

And for a week or so the glee boys honestly tried. The moratorium on inappropriate comments couldn’t stand up long to the combined filthiness of Puck and Santana’s minds, but everyone made a point of acknowledging Kurt more in the hallways and public places, keeping the bullies somewhat at bay. Karofsky still gave him a lot of dirty looks, but never got close enough for a locker slam because Finn was always hovering too closely- which really, really seemed to annoy Cro-Magnon boy.

 

-

 

Then his dad and Carole got engaged! Kurt would’ve been totally over the moon if only Finn wasn’t so obviously freaked out. Still, he didn’t let that get in the way of planning his dream wedding 24/7, school hours obviously included (the curriculum in most McKinley classes could not be called challenging…or even adequate).

 

After running Finn off with threats of glittery bird poop and ballroom boot-camp he stood in front of his locker contemplating a little plastic cake-topper he’d found at the craft store, trying to decide if it was adorably kitschy or just plain tacky. As he looked down at the figurine a field of red filled his peripheral vision. He jerked his head up to find Karofsky suddenly close to him for the first time in weeks. Like really, really close. Close enough to feel the heat rolling of the other boy’s giant gorilla body and note the gold flecks in the terrifyingly intent eyes that were about to be the last thing Kurt would see before he died.

 

“I don’t want you near me,” he managed to whisper; that counted as putting up a fight, right? Maybe they could put it on his tombstone.

 

Of course this only made Karofsky loom even closer and poke a giant finger into Kurt’s sternum- dragging it slowly, slowly down his chest- his eyes daring Kurt to do anything about it. Kurt stood frozen, mesmerized, his cheeks burning. He had never felt so absolutely helpless and humiliated. Karofsky was asserting his dominance like- like an animal, and Kurt was letting it happen- he might as well be rolling on the floor to present his soft underbelly, or letting Karofsky pee on him.

 

He didn’t move, even when Karofsky leaned down, nostrils flaring next to Kurt’s exposed neck, and took the cake-topper out of his hand. He didn’t even have to tug on it, Kurt felt those big callused fingers brushing against his palm and dropped it like the plastic was burning him. Karofsky smirked in triumph, his tongue poking out a little, as seemed to happen when he was happy, and waggled the figurine at Kurt’s eye level.

 

“Can I have th-“

 

“Hey!”

 

Another blur of red shoved between them.

 

“What the hell, man?” It was Finn- Finn had seen and come back to come help him, instead of slinking away like he had so many times before.

 

Karofsky grinned again, but his eyes cut away to the side.

 

“I just wanted to ask the fag why he’s playing with dolls now. What’s it to yah, Hudson? You queermos gettin’ together for a Barbie tea party later?”

 

Finn’s jaw tightened and he yanked the cake-topper out of Karofsky’s beefy paw.

 

“This is for my mom’s wedding, you jackass. She’s marrying Mr. Hummel, and Kurt’s been working really hard to make it awesome. You mess with my mom’s wedding, you mess with my _brother_ ,” he clapped a hand on Kurt’s shoulder, “and I will mess _you_ up so bad you’ll be singing soprano higher than he can. We clear?”

 

He glared at Karofsky and, to Kurt’s amazed gratification, Karofsky shrugged and backed down, clearly ashamed or at least intimidated.

 

“Whatever- enjoy your butt-brothers, Brady Bunch gang-bang. Later, Hudson-Hummer-Handjobs!” And he left, making lewd kissy noises the whole way, true, but without violence.

 

Finn pressed the little bride and groom into Kurt’s nerveless fingers.

 

“You ok, dude?”

 

“Don’t call me d- you just called me your brother.”

 

“Well… yeah. You’re gonna be my brother, Kurt, whether we like it or not.”

 

Kurt’s mood plummeted again and he tossed the wedding topper in the nearest trashcan with a disdainful sniff.

 

“I think this is too tacky – even if it wasn’t forever tainted by Karofsky’s greasy sausage-fingers. So, you wish that you didn’t have to be my brother?”

 

“I… no, man. Ok, it feels weird that my mom is, like, replacing my dad. You understand that, right? You loved _your_ mom and it’s gonna feel weird when we all switch houses and you have to get rid of most of her stuff.”

 

Kurt’s chest tightened. He had been so excited about the redecorating to come that he hadn’t really stopped to think about dismantling the little shrines to his mother- left just as she had last touched them- in several pockets of their house. Finn was still talking, doing his best puppy eyes.

 

“But I also want my mom to be happy, and I know your dad will be a totally awesome husband, and I’m kinda stoked to be getting a totally awesome stepdad too. And I’m super stoked to be getting a bitchy, pushy, totally awesome little brother to tease and annoy and blame everything on when I break stuff.”

 

Kurt bit his lip to keep from grinning. “You are _not_ the big brother. I’m intellectually, emotionally, and also, extremely literally, older than you.”

 

Finn had no problem grinning like an idiot as he pulled Kurt under his arm and gave him a gentle noogie. “I’m taller. That makes me the big brother, and I get to do this whenever I want.”

 

Kurt shrieked and twisted out of Finn’s grasp, digging his nails into the other boy’s wrist to protect his precious, precious hair. “How dare you! You just wait, Finn Hudson, I’m about to have a major growth spurt, I’ve had to part with two different inseams worth of designer denim already this year!”

 

“Grow all you want, you’ll never catch up to me. I’m like Godzilla- I can actually hear my bones rustling at night. Sometimes I get weird pregnant lady urges and eat chalk.”

 

Kurt fished out a compact to assess the damage to his coiffeur and grimaced. “Stay away from me, you mutating freak! I should have let Karofsky murder me- at least he would have left a good-looking corpse.”

 

“I think your hair looks better this way,” Finn said very seriously. “You and Jacob ben Israel could start a new trend.”

 

Kurt firmly believed that violence was never the answer, but sometimes violence was the answer- so he kicked Finn in the shins.

 

-

 

The wedding happened (it was beautiful and perfect, all thanks to Kurt’s uncompromising vision, and someday they would apologize for calling him Adolf Tutera and threatening to call PETA on him- when he had only fed those ungrateful doves perfectly safe food grade confectionary glitter) and then they really were brothers, and Kurt discovered that it really was a two way street when he found himself forced to mediate Finn and Rachel’s drama after Santana dropped her sex bomb.

 

But Rachel _had_ been surprisingly decent, standing up for him a few weeks ago, and he felt a little guilty about the ways he’d tried to sabotage their relationship, back when he’d wanted to get with (ew!) his brother (Finn really did feel like his brother now, because it made him sick up in his mouth to remember). So he talked Rachel down when she came up with wild schemes to use Puck to make Finn jealous, and he patiently explained to Finn that ‘We weren’t even together, why are you acting all crazy’ were not the most effective words to start an apology with.

 

But eventually all of Kurt’s hard work- listening to the two of them whine while trying to find nice, constructive ways to tell them that they were both selfish, entitled monsters- paid off with a tearful reunion. This left Rachel stable enough that- once she had properly mourned the ‘injustice’ of being denied a solo at Sectionals- she was more than ready to help Kurt steal one of the solos away from Santana.

 

Kurt knew there was no way in hell he was getting a solo- even though he’d been working on a killer version of Don’t Cry For Me Argentina- he didn’t like to think about it too often, but he suspected that Mr. Schuester wasn’t really comfortable with his sexuality. Nevertheless he intended to make damn sure that the solo went to somebody deserving (i.e. Kurt’s friends) and not to Santana who wasn’t even an original member, and had just deliberately almost destroyed the club with her drama (and called him a maricon under her breath last week).

 

Mr. Schuester probably wouldn’t have listened to Kurt, Mercedes and Tina’s pitch on their own- but with the added pressure from his star pupil, Rachel, and new recruit Lauren (Santana had providentially already insulted her), whom Mr. Schuester was terrified of losing, what with all the dramatic walk-outs by various people in the last few weeks- he eventually agreed that Mike and Brittany’s dance skills would be best showcased recreating the iconic lift routine from Dirty Dancing to compliment (relieve the tedium of- in Kurt’s opinion) Sam and Quinn’s (dull, dull, mayo on white bread) rather simple duet. Therefore, there was no need for another dance-focused (Santana-focused) routine, rather than a stirring ballad, like Tina and Mercedes’ version of Dog Days Are Over.

 

-

 

By the last chorus, Tina and Mercedes had the middle-aged audience up on their feet singing along to the indie-rock hipster song like it was their favorite football team’s anthem. The old people and the admittedly dreamy Dalton Swallows (Kurt thought that was their name) didn’t stand a chance. The cute little lead singer looked especially crushed by their thorough defeat, so Kurt made sure to shake his hand with an extra-gracious smile when they accepted the other team’s congratulations on their victory. At the same time, though- ha-ha victory! Victory that couldn’t have been won without Kurt’s tireless behind-the-scenes machinations!

 

-

 

Kurt just sighed and focused on their enormous trophy when Finn and Rachel wasted all of his hard work by breaking up not even a week later- after Rachel lost it when Finn referred to Hanukkah as ‘Halloween’ for the ninth time.

 

At least the jocks seemed to be mostly following an insult but don’t touch policy- now that he was the QB’s brother, and the football team was consistently winning games for the first time in pretty much ever. The only time Kurt actively thought about Karofsky from November to February was right before winter break, when the glee club was mass-attacked with red and green slushies in what Principal Figgins later described as ‘light-hearted holiday hijinks’ when he declined to punish anyone.

 

As Kurt wiped the icy sludge from his eyes he caught Karofsky staring fixedly at his chest, unnaturally still in the cluster of laughing sports buffoons. He looked down and remembered, to his horror, that he was wearing a whisper-soft white cashmere sweater. The wet slushies had rendered it completely see-through. He gasped and crossed his arms over his chest, but he refused to be cowed, he raised his chin and met Karofsky’s stare with an indignant glare of his own, despite blushing furiously.

 

Karofsky winked and pulled exaggeratedly at his own shirt in the universal immature-dirtbag sign for nipples. The other jocks found it hilarious and squealed and clasped their hands to their chests whenever Kurt walked by for the rest of the week.

 

So yes, in general, Kurt rarely thought about Karofsky, separately from the rest of the Clan of the Cave Bear, but when he did it was with a hot flash of humiliation paired with a cold shiver of embarrassment- remembering his telltale burning cheeks and his icy chest- completely exposed to Karofsky’s suggestive gaze.

-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings this chapter- Homophobic slurs, Dave menacing Kurt as in the original cake-topper scene, Dave and the other football players mocking Kurt in a sexually-tinged manner when a slushy attack makes his clothing see-through. This chapter spans the timeline between Never Been Kissed and A Very Glee Christmas.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings (nothing that I would call serious) in the end notes-

Kurt was quite pleased for Finn and the rest of the gleek boys (although the rest of the football team could choke on their own jockstraps for all he cared) when they made it to the championship-whatever-thingy. He was also, however, very, very tired of listening to his dad and Finn talk about football as well as just a little sad that the previous McKinley Titans record singular win, that he had pretty much personally set last season, had already been shattered.

 

Attending the games wasn’t too bad. He just tried to imagine that all of the sculpted, snugly-spandexed rear-ends weren’t attached to their douche-nozzle owners and drifted off into pleasant daydreams, clapping politely whenever the screaming around him reached a higher decibel.

 

-

 

Then it all fell apart in the penultimate game. From what Kurt heard from the other boys Finn had been trying to protect his honor, or the glee club’s collective honor, or something- which was all very sweet, but honestly, if that boy didn’t have such a pathological need for universal approval, Coach Beiste and Mr. Schue never would have saddled the glee club with a resentful group of hormone-addled psychopaths for an entire week- filling Kurt’s former refuge with their homicidal glares and sulphurous farts.

 

Karofsky and Azimio were the most vocal in their displeasure. Kurt sneered- if he was a sub-literate lard-ass he’d be afraid of attempting to dance where other people might see him, too. Ha! He bet that Karofsky would lumber around like the monster in the Puttin’ On The Ritz scene in [Young Frankenstein](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w1FLZPFI3jc).

 

He might have pulled up the clip on his phone to show Mercedes, and he might have ‘accidentally’ whispered an explanation to her loud enough for Karofsky to catch his own name and then angled the screen so that he could see what they were snickering at, as they ignored Puck and Rachel’s tedious lite country performance and Finn’s butthurt reaction to it.

 

Ironically, more than a few of the jocks were bobbing their heads along to the music. Kurt had to give Rachel credit for knowing her redneck audience. As soon as the song ended however, Azimio made a crack about Puck being a girl, Puck lunged at him, all the football players and Lauren started chanting “Fight! Fight! Fight!” and choir room-wide violence erupted.

 

As Kurt tried to avoid a kick from Rachel’s indiscriminately wind-milling legs someone exceedingly solid shoulder-checked him and a familiar meaty paw deliberately slapped his phone out of his hand. Kurt looked up into Karofsky’s incandescently furious eyes and felt his own rage rising in kind. In defiance of all sense and self-preservation instincts, Kurt lunged forward, mouth opening to yell at the much larger boy, but before he could get farther than “Hey-” Karofsky steamrolled a path to the door and escaped- without either of the teachers trying to stop him amidst the general chaos.

 

-

 

And yet these same teachers refused to acknowledge the total failure of their plan, and continued the forced integration during compulsory zombie camp.

 

-

Zombie camp was… Ok, zombie camp was maybe a little bit fun. Kurt didn’t understand why so many people who were otherwise intolerant of even the slightest whiff of otherness gave Michael Jackson a free pass, but the norms certainly seemed to love him even more than the princess plantation crap, and no one could resist the lure of the Thriller zombie shuffle.

 

They even liked playing with the makeup- which mostly entailed squirting fake blood capsules at each other but, hey- it was still makeup and the straight boys were still willing, even eager, to paint their faces with it.

 

Ugh, Karofsky was smearing his on all wrong- of course he couldn’t have been bothered to pay attention during Kurt and Tina’s tutorial. Without thinking, Kurt dropped the eye-liner he’d just finished using on Mike, swiveled around to Karofsky at the adjacent dressing table, and snatched the other boy’s makeup sponge right out of his clumsy fingers.

 

“Stop! You have to _blend_ the edges,” he grabbed Karofsky’s chin and began feathering the sponge over the network of cracks radiating from his cheek, “Don’t you kn-“

 

Karofsky’s fingers didn’t seem so clumsy when they clamped like a vise around Kurt’s wrist, completely immobilizing it. They were wrapped so tightly around his poor wrist that Karofsky could no doubt feel the crazy uptick in Kurt’s pulse. Kurt belatedly realized what he had done- and that it made no more sense than going up and poking a sleeping grizzly bear.

 

Kurt did not want to end up like Timothy Treadwell. He tried to convey a posture of calm stillness, rather than paralyzed terror. Predators often saw eye-contact as a direct challenge- Kurt lowered his gaze to Karofsky’s mouth and watched him lick his lips- oh hell, he also felt the movement through the other boy’s jaw- he gently released Karofsky’s chin, holding up his free hand in what he hoped was a nonthreatening manner and spoke in a carefully casual tone-

 

“Ok, Kar-Dave. Um, I was just going to fix your prosthetic. If you want? It’ll just take a moment.” He held his breath, praying for a quick death.

 

Karofsky flicked a quick glance around the dressing room. No one was watching them, Azimio was sitting on Strando’s chest, drawing a penis on his forehead with lip-liner, and everyone was pretty focused on that. Very slowly the feeling of being caught in a steel trap eased. The pad of Karofsky’s thumb brushed across the pressure point on the underside of Kurt’s wrist, making him shiver, and then his hand was free.

 

“Whatever,” Karofsky rumbled.

 

Kurt flashed a tiny professional smile, disregarded the eye-roll he received in response, and got to work- dabbing at Karofsky’s cheek with what he hoped were steady, non-trembling fingers. Eventually he got caught up in his work and was surprised yet again when the passing-period bell rang 15 minutes later and the isolated curve of jawline up into cheekbone around to the tiny little of whorl of hair nestled behind the ear coalesced back into Karofsky’s face.

 

Karofsky was staring at him from inches away- had possibly been staring at him for the entire 15 minutes.

 

“Kay… All done.”

 

Karofsky gave a half nod and sprang out of his seat. Damn, he was enormous, and damn, he moved fast for a wall of beef. As Kurt watched him compare faces and slap shoulders with the other football players he decided that a half-nod, not followed by a shove into the makeup counter or the application of a penis drawing to his face, constituted a sincere thank you in jock speak.

 

-

 

The freaky light-on-his-bigfoot-sized-feet thing should have been a clue- Kurt was suprised to discover that Karofsky was a fairly decent dancer. He positioned himself behind Mike or, more frequently, Kurt (Kurt was gratified that his dance skills were rated higher than Mike’s, even by such a very untrained eye) and watched intently- tongue poking out to the side (always with the tongue things) then replicate Kurt or Mike’s moves with impressive accuracy.

 

He didn’t have anything approaching Mike’s skill or Kurt’s style (all in the hips, if Kurt did say so himself) but he was far better than any of the other conscripted jocks; far better, honestly speaking, than Sam and Finn. Finn- as long as Kurt was being honest- Finn was kind of a danger to himself and others.

 

Kurt was minding his own business, hunched over, dangling his head and arms towards the floor like a possessed ragdoll, like _everyone_ was supposed to be doing at this point in the choreography, when he saw Finn’s dirty sneaker come flying up towards his face-

 

-Apparently Finn couldn’t dance _or_ do simple math, because he had started the kick-ball-change an entire eight-count early, and Kurt’s poor, innocent, fragile nose was going to pay the price, just when Kurt had finally begun to appreciate the delicate little flare at the tip-

 

-A familiar steely death grip closed around his waist and suddenly he was spinning through the air- far from the nose-assassin’s foot-

 

It was Karofsky- David Karofsky had swooped in from behind and was holding him aloft, as easily as Kurt had seen him hold a football, he didn’t even bother to put him down before turning to yell at Finn-

 

“Watch it, Frankenteen! If you’re gonna throw your life and reputation away to be in stupid glee, at least be good at it- you almost kicked this kid’s face in!” He shook Kurt under Finn’s nose to emphasize his point.

 

Kurt panicked at the change to his center of gravity and threw himself backwards- oh yeah, oops- into a solid wall of muscle.

 

The back of his head banged against Karofsky’s chin, making the other boy wheeze a sharp blast of air right next to Kurt’s ear and loosen his hold. Kurt slid abruptly to the floor, his back sticking to Karofsky’s sweaty front the whole way. To make his humiliation complete, Kurt’s baggy practice tee caught on Karofsky’s still outspread hands and ruched up under Kurt’s armpits as he slid down.

 

Kurt sprang away, tugging furiously at his shirt. He looked around, terrified, expecting everyone to laugh at the flash of his fish-white belly, but they were all still staring at Karofsky- Kurt must have slammed his chin harder than he thought, because he was just standing there, glassy-eyed and mouth hanging slightly open.

 

Rachel and the unholy trinity were staring the hardest- they exchanged a scarily telepathic look and advanced on Karofsky in unison-

 

“Lifts, he can do real lifts!” Rachel’s eyes were unnervingly shiny.

 

“How much can you bench press?” Santana grabbed his arm and started poking at it critically.

 

Kurt almost felt sorry for Karofsky as the girls swarmed him and used him like a dumbwaiter for the better part of an hour. He was prodded into hoisting up girl after girl into increasingly risky and difficult poses. One would think that a stereotypical jock would be happy to have so many boobs thrust in his face and his hands between so many sets of thighs- but he actually looked kind of trapped and miserable.

 

Maybe because Santana jabbed him with her mercilessly sharp fingernails every time he tried to protest.

 

However reluctant Karosfky was- his strength was unflagging. His arms kept pumping up and down, lift after lift, like they had hydraulics. It was kind of mesmerizing.

 

Kurt had always found giant muscles like Karofsky’s somewhat unsightly, a sure sign of overcompensation- but there was something deeply satisfying about watching those muscles put to thorough use.

 

After the girls finally released him, Mr. Schue pulled Karofsky aside to give him one of his patented self-esteem speeches, it was clear from Karofsky’s face that he didn’t believe the praise.

 

Kurt rolled his eyes as he zipped past them- “Its true, Donkey Kong, you are without a doubt the best stepladder this club has ever seen. I hope they make cummerbunds in your size because Rachel Berry will never let you escape now.”

 

He didn’t look back to see Karofsky’s reaction; even with the glee boys there he tried to get in and out of the locker room as quickly as possible. He had stuffed his dance clothes into odor-blocking Ziploc bags, grimaced as he yanked his skinny jeans up his sweaty legs, and was darting out the door- with only a longing glance at the showers he never dared to use- before the other boys had even finished trooping in and opening their lockers.

 

When he unpacked his laundry that evening, the smell of his shirt practically smacked him in the face. Kurt never got that stinky, what on earth was this? It wasn’t a horrible stench- not like Finn’s rank burrito b.o., or the eye-searing burn of Puck’s cloying Axe body spray- it just smelled intensely of sweat… Kurt flashed back to sliding down Karofsky’s sweaty, sweaty chest.

 

His shirt smelled like David Karofsky’s sweat. Kurt hadn’t showered after zombie camp… he remembered the way his shirt had ridden up, bunched around Karofsky’s hands, stuck under Kurt’s armpits.

 

Kurt had walked around for the rest of the day smelling like he’d plastered his bare back against Karofsky’s sweaty chest.

 

How long had Karofsky hands smelled like Kurt’s armpits?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place during The Sue Sylvester Shuffle. 
> 
> Warnings: Kurt implies ableist and body-snarking insults, as well as unverified speculation about Michael Jackson. Several physical fights break out between the glee club and the football team- as in canon. Kurt is anxious about his personal safety and inadvertently exposing his body. Teenage boys smell.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day, scrubbed raw and wearing many additional layers in case of another wardrobe malfunction, Kurt was less than amused to be ushered into the auditorium with the girls because ‘the boys’ had a surprise performance for them.

 

Ok, technically the football team had a surprise performance, and it was just a coincidence that Kurt was the only boy in glee that wasn’t on the team- so no one was outright lumping him in with the girls, but it certainly felt like they were.

 

They were doing a number by The Zombies because they were dressed like zombies- alright, fine, that was a cute idea- and apparently it had been Karofsky’s? Wow- maybe Kurt had been wrong about him- he might one day make _full_ manager at a rendering plant, not just assistant.

 

They looked pretty good up there, Kurt allowed, in their lettermans and cadaverous makeup, doing sort of slow, underwater 60’s moves.

 

[What’s your name?](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qzpPy9hJYA8)

Who’s your daddy?

Is he rich like me?

 

Artie and Finn were trading off lead vocals; the song was a little creepy but also kind of hot.

 

What’s your name?

 

Karofsky’s voice was the most distinct in the choral refrain-

 

Tell it to me slowly

What’s your name?

 

Kurt had already pegged him for a baritone, but he wasn’t expecting the smooth, velvety _good_ baritone-

 

I really wanna know

 

His eyes seemed very dark and glittery under the stage lights, in his unnaturally pale makeup, and it almost seemed as if he were staring directly- singing directly- at Kurt.

 

It’s the time of the season for

Loving-------

 

Kurt was burning up beneath his double layer of leotards. No, dammit, this was not happening! He was not getting sandbagged yet again by another stupid straight boy!

 

Fine. Karofsky was a good performer. Good performances were sexy. _That did not make Karofsky sexy in real life._ Even Rachel was sexy when she sang, very occasionally.

 

Meat-headed straight boys were not sexy when they were strutting down the school hallway, grinning like children because they had the audacity to wear their zombie makeup in public. And it was not sexy when they clapped Kurt on the shoulder and shoved him to the back of the group when the hockey team blocked the way- as if Kurt wasn’t even man enough to face a tragic collection of mullets.

 

Not that trying to hide Kurt at the back of the group worked, of course. The lead mullet’s eyes went straight to him, with a nasty smirk-

 

“Holy crap, he turned Karofsky gay!”

 

And, of course, Karofsky freaked out and lunged at the hockey team with a crazed look on his face, like being called gay was the worst insult in the world.

 

Kurt really needed to remember this moment. To David Karofsky, being like Kurt was the worst thing in the entire world.

 

He should have been glad that Karofsky felt the main brunt of the ensuing slushy attack.

 

He should have laughed and laughed at Karofsky when he howled about his burning eyes, jumping around like an enraged gorilla, then stomping off in a huff worthy of Rachel Berry.

 

Instead, some madness possessed him to wait until everyone else had cleared out of the locker room, shaking their heads, and moaning about the big game.

 

Karofsky might have made a dramatic exit but he would have to come back for the spare clothes in his locker, if he didn’t want to drive home marinating in red dye number seven.

 

He should not have waited, hidden in the corner, until Karofsky came creeping back in, shoulders hunched, and dropped heavily down to a bench, pawing at his reddened eyes like an angry bear.

 

He should not have cleared his throat and approached the bench. He should have left, or said something cutting, or punched him right in his stupid, slushied face when Karofsky squinted up at him and muttered “Girls’ locker room is next door.”

 

So why on earth did he bend over Karofsky with the merest huff of annoyance and slap the other boy’s hands out of the way (as if they couldn’t crush him with one swipe) to carefully apply a poultice of wet paper towels to his eyes?

 

“Don’t rub, Grizzly Adams, you have to blot.”

 

Kurt was cradling David Karofsky’s face in his hands for the second time in as many days, but it was purely for medical reasons. If Karofsky seemed to lean his face into Kurt’s touch like a big cat, he was probably just blindly trying to rub off the stinging ice crystals. Karofsky was trembling; probably the slushy had dripped down to his underwear- that always made Kurt shiver.

 

The ice must have dripped into some really interesting places because Karofsky made a surprisingly breathy noise and jumped up abruptly. He cleared his throat, like that would make Kurt forget the way he had just gasped, and turned away, pretending to be very involved with digging through his locker.

 

“Aren’t you going to say it?’ Karofsky appeared to be talking to his gym bag, but Kurt guessed that the question was meant for him.

 

“Say what?”

 

Karofsky shrugged, shoulders hunching again, like an enormous, angsty turtle. A teenage mutant ninja turtle, if you will. Maybe Kurt needed to ease off the animal similes.

 

“Payback’s a bitch?” Karofsky bit out like an angry, defeated teenage boy and not like any kind of animal. “You had it coming? You can dish it but you can’t take it? Something like that.”

 

“The way you’re feeling now- that’s what you make me feel like every single day, David. And yes, it was easy to hate you when you were bullying me, but now I just see your pain.” Karofsky’s eyes were really, really red, it was getting harder to pretend that it was just because of the slushies. “It doesn’t have to be like this. You don’t have to be miserable, David.”

 

Karofsky’s- David’s face crumpled. Kurt felt an answering sting behind his own eyes; David was undeniably holding back tears.

 

“I’m sorry Kurt. I’m so freaking sorry for the way I treated you.”

 

“I know, I know.” Kurt did know. There was no way that David didn’t mean it, and Kurt found that he couldn’t bear the broken look in his eyes. “It’s going to be ok, David. Maybe not right away, but perhaps someday soon the right moment will arise- we’ll kill at the halftime show, and the school will come around when everyone sees how awesome you are. You can join glee and really make a difference.”

 

But-

 

“I can’t.” David said in a terrible, broken voice, even more terrible than his broken eyes, and then he was running away again, running from Kurt this time- and he never even got to change out of his slushied shirt.

 

-

 

Later Finn told Kurt that Coach Beiste had forced the issue and Dave, followed by most of the team, had quit football, rather than dance with them- ruining his future and theirs because he was nothing but a scared little boy.

 

Later still Kurt lay on his bed with his face pressed into a sweaty shirt that he had somehow ‘forgot’ to wash, crying and wondering how he could be this pathetic; fixating on a boy who found him so disgusting that he would rather throw away the most important game of his high school career and remain a Lima loser forever, rather than be publicly associated with him for the length of a three-minute song.

 

-

 

Whatever- Kurt would show them all he wasn’t a coward or a loser like them. If Rachel, tiny, insane, be-headbanded Rachel, was brave enough to fill in on the football team- Kurt could certainly reprise his star-making turn as kicker.

 

-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time of the Season, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qzpPy9hJYA8, as performed by The Zombies, circa 1968, written by Rod Argent. This chapter is also set during The Sue Sylvester Shuffle part of the original timeline.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings (mild) at the end of chapter.

The mutinous players where less than impressed when Coach Beiste, rather than caving to their last-minute ultimatum, revealed Rachel, Kurt and the other volunteers suited up for the game.

 

“You lettin’ Liberace and his backup dancers play?” Azimio shook his head. “This ain't a powderpuff game, y’all crazy! For real, you can’t put girls on the field- they’re gonna die.”

 

Kurt whipped off his helmet, the better to give Azimio a taste of his best bitch face. “You seem to have forgotten that I’ve already led this team to victory, when I was just a sophomore- probably because you weren’t even a third-string benchwarmer then. And these girls are doing what you don’t have the stones to.”

 

He flicked a disdainful side eye at Dave. “Besides, it didn’t seem to matter that Tina was a girl when you shoved her off her feet last year.”

 

“Dude, I said I was sorry!” Dave, no, _Karofsky_ didn’t look very sorry, his hands were twitching like he wanted to throttle Kurt.

 

“Not to Tina, you didn’t,” Kurt sniffed.

 

“Wait, why would you apologize to any of these nerds?” Azimio looked profoundly disappointed.

 

Karofsky gritted his teeth and- avoiding both Kurt’s and Azimio’s eyes- delivered a grudging speech to the wall behind Tina.

 

“I’m sorry, Tina Cohen Asian-something-that-I-forget; I shouldn’t have shoved you that time. It was pretty messed up- although at the time I thought your weird outfit was made out of actual bubble wrap- so I figured you wouldn’t feel it- also I really like that poppy noise it makes.”

 

He glared back up at Kurt. “But the way I shoved you guys, if you think that was rough, that was nothing like an actual tackle- I’d never- you can’t play- Zee wasn’t exaggerating, you could actually _die_.”

 

“Oh no,” Rachel piped up, “Each time they call a play we’re going to drop down and lie on the ground- we’re just going to lie there!”

 

She proceeded to explain in earnest, if extremely uninformed detail until Coach Beiste blew her whistle and told them it was time to head out. Kurt shoved his helmet back on and turned to go, determinedly not sparing Karofsky another glance- so he was startled when a pair of big hands thunked down on his head.

 

Karofsky brusquely readjusted Kurt’s helmet and tightened the chinstrap, leaning in close to hiss- “This is a stupid fucking idea- you don’t even know how to put a fucking helmet on. This is not a fashion accessory, Fancy- it’s for keeping your fucking brains inside your fucking head! Not to mention your teeth, put in your fucking mouthguard! And remember what goddamn Yentl said and _stay_ on the fucking ground, okay?”

 

“No David,” Kurt jerked away from the fingers pushing the mouthguard between his teeth- trying to ignore the doubtless unintended way those fingers lingered gently on his lips, “one of the many, many differences between you and me is that _I_ don’t take things lying down.”

 

-

 

Midway through the game Kurt no longer felt quite so superior. It turned out there weren’t many opportunities for him to kick things and he had no idea what to do the rest of the time so, at Finn’s repeated insistence, he had given in and joined the girls in lying down, after all.

 

At least Lauren was actually helping, Kurt just felt useless and more and more ashamed every time the audience groaned in unison at said uselessness. Needless to say, the Titans were getting creamed.

 

He had no idea what was going on, mud was oozing into every seam and opening of his uniform and dripping down the grille of his helmet, all he could see was mud- great, a fresh helping spattered right across his face as the ball plopped down in front of them, right in the middle of a puddle. He gingerly tried to blink wet grit out of his eyes, just perfect- oh poop! The ball had just plopped down in front of them!

 

The spectators were on their feet, yelling and gesticulating wildly, clearly they were supposed to do something about this. Tina looked around uncertainly and started to get up- no, Kurt couldn’t leave her in harm’s way when he had just made such a big deal about people pushing her around- before he could psych himself out, he squelched to his feet, grabbed the ball, and started to run… everyone in the crowd was screaming and pointing… run that way!

 

Yes! Kurt’s legs pumped effortlessly beneath him, they had never let him down- he was a seasoned and conditioned expert at running away from truculent brutes- he was going to make it- he was going to shoot a touchdown!

 

He noticed a large blur out of the corner of his eye and then something slammed into his solar plexus _hard_ and everything flipped around very fast and his entire body slammed against something even harder. Oh, it was the ground. Hello again, mud.

 

He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t tell where the pain in his ribs stopped and the pain in his back began, his teeth felt like they’d been driven half an inch into the mouthguard, all he could see was black and red flashes, and all he could hear was a garbled roaring noise.

 

The world slowly came back into focus. Everything still hurt, but it didn’t seem as if his intestines were leaking out or he had splintered any bones- he wrinkled his nose cautiously- still in its original tip tilted condition, as far as he could tell. Oh look, he was still holding the ball- that was good, right? Maybe the team wouldn’t be too mad at him.

 

Finn and a medic were hovering over him. He swatted at them and started to sit up, no need to further freak out his dad, whom he knew was watching from the stands. There were still those black and red blurs flying around though, Kurt tried harder to focus his eyes. It was the black and red pattern on a jacket.

 

A jacket that was on David Karofsky, who was on top of another player (the one who had just sacked him, Kurt assumed) pummeling the absolute crap out of him and roaring what appeared to be mostly gibberish, although Kurt clearly heard the phrase “Pick on someone your own size, you pussy-faggot!”

 

Charming.

 

Kurt hauled himself up, using Finn to steady himself, then shoved the football at Finn and hobbled over to kick Karofsky in the shins.

 

“Dave, stop it! David!”

 

Karofsky paused mid-punch and looked up. He surged towards Kurt, eyes locked on his face, and Kurt felt something literally flip under his sternum- like there was a magnet in there, jumping towards a similar magnet in the other boy’s broad chest.

 

But before the magnets could lock together, Coach Beiste shoved her way between them, bawling Karofsky out for jeopardizing the only points they’d won all game with his unsportsmanlike attempted homicide (although the way she worded it included several confusing folksy metaphors).

 

Karofsky yelled right back at her that she was a reckless maniac who ought to have her coaching credentials revoked for child endangerment (although the way he worded it included several more ableist slurs and quite a lot of profanity).

 

Coach Beiste yelled over him and kicked him off the field, calling after him to get the hell out of her stadium and never come back.

 

Kurt made himself tear his eyes away from Karofsky’s rapidly disappearing shoulders and turned to Finn, who was still fussing at him.

 

“Leave me alone, Finn, I’m fine! Thanks, very much for your concern, but I’m not actually made out of porcelain, I’m not a child, and I am not a _girl_!”

 

Lauren Zizes walked by and punched him in the arm so hard that he almost fell down again. “Yeah, we know you’re not a girl. Girls get shit done.” She squatted in front of the opposing tackle and looked him in the eyes, at least the one eye that Karofsky hadn’t punched shut. “Hey buddy, you’re gonna dieeee.”

 

Finn must not have been overly concerned with Kurt’s welfare after all, because he suddenly got his weird, gassy baby look, put Sam in charge of the team and just ran off, abandoning Kurt. Kurt looked around confused, then sighed and got back down in the mud.

 

-

 

All became clear at halftime when Finn returned with the missing Cheerios in tow and Puck came riding herd on the rest of the regular football players, minus one notably large and angry exception.

 

Kurt felt the spot under his sternum twinge, but no, there was no time to think about why Dav- why some people hadn’t come back. Kurt had to focus, because... because the show must go on! It was very, very important that Kurt give the performance of his life as Backup Zombie #3, he couldn’t afford to be distracted by anybod- any _thing_ right now.

 

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: misogynistic, homophobic and ableist language and canon-typical football injuries and violence.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings (of a slightly sexual nature) in end notes-

 

Once the performance started it was actually much easier to focus – these were the best production values with the biggest audience they’d ever had, and the enthusiasm rolling off the crowd was exhilarating. So exhilarating that he didn’t even care what Santana would do to him later- he kept ‘accidentally’ singing over her and stole half her lines.

 

He just felt so alive (but also legit undead) as Brittany and Quinn launched him into a flying monster leap- oh shitfuckchristlordandtaylor- they’d forgotten to rework the lifts-

 

Karofsky was supposed to catch him, but he had quit, and gotten banned for life, and now Kurt was going to get sucker punched by the ground for the second time in less than an hour- _ugh_ -

 

 

Hello, here came Dave Karofsky’s face. There was a _smile_ on it, a wide, happy, genuine smile that made Kurt realize he must never have seen the other boy actually happy before. And then Dave caught him, their bodies working together easily, as if they were indeed joined by a magnetic force. Kurt grinned down and Dave grinned up, but all too quickly Dave dropped him to his feet, _why_?

 

Oh yeah, Santana was hurtling towards them and Dave had to catch her now. Not that she really needed a spotter, Kurt thought bitterly- considering how she'd upgraded her chassis with oversized airbags.

 

He seriously reconsidered her claims to psychic abilities when she kicked him right in his sore solar plexus as she landed with an incredibly unconvincing “Oops.”

 

Dave reached out a warm hand to steady him though, and Kurt’s chest didn’t feel too bad after all- in fact he took a deep breath and belted out Santana’s final line, before she’d had a chance to open her mouth. The song ended, the crowd went wild, and Kurt and Dave exchanged another set of crazed grins over Santana’s fuming head.

 

But then Dave was immediately engulfed by an enthusiastic swarm of his teammates, bro-punching the crap out of each other’s shoulders and bro-slapping the absolute shit out of each other's butts. And Kurt was the one who was allegedly bent on bad-touching everyone. The football players turned to bat their collective puppy eyes at Coach Beiste.

 

She stared them down with a stern, forbidding expression until their shoulders drooped-but then she cracked a smile and barked-

 

“Alright, get your muffins on the field and hustle! Yeah, even you, Karofsky, ya little psychopath!”

 

Kurt was heading towards the sidelines, to see if he could borrow some pompoms, when Beiste grabbed him by the back of his jersey and pushed his helmet back at him.

 

“No one said you were benched yet, Hummel. You’re still the best kicker we got, and don’t think I won’t hunt you down like a cougar defending her eggs if ya try to weasel out of tryouts next season. Now git over there and do it for Judy!”

 

-

 

Kurt was still pretty confused about the rules, but he was fairly sure that Dave was supposed to be covering Finn as quarterback- unless Sam was the quarterback now- either way Dave probably wasn’t meant to spend the entire game hovering over Kurt and glaring murderously at anyone who came within ten feet of him. However Finn seemed to be okay with this state of affairs and frankly Kurt felt that he owed it to his alabaster skin to avoid anymore bruises or unsightly astroturf burns.

 

The other team was already visibly unnerved by the rabid-dog look in Dave’s eyes, then someone started a “Brains, brains, braiiinnnsss,” chant and Dave smiled this truly unhinged shark smile and gnashed his teeth right in the face of the opposing tackle, whose aforementioned face was still covered in Dave’s knuckleprints. The poor bastard actually whimpered, broke formation, and fled the field.

 

So, what with the renewed sense of camaraderie and shared psychological terrorism tactics- and perhaps due to the efforts of high-kicker extraordinaire Kurt Elizabeth Eat-Your-Heart-Out-Ann-Miller Hummel- the McKinley Titans won the championship game!

 

The championship game of a vague, obscure league, held in February, which was apparently weird for reasons that Kurt had never understood, but hey, it still counted (maybe), and confetti cannons were going off, along with the smoke machines, and now it was starting to snow too, which probably was starting to cause respiratory problems for a good portion of the crowd, but it was all terribly picturesque.

 

Gentle eddies of snowflakes and confetti swirled around David Karofsky’s head as he yanked his helmet off, highlighting the redness in his adorably round cheeks and… pretty much uniformly brick red rest of his sweaty face. But Kurt didn’t really have time to critique David’s complexion because he was kind of busy climbing him like a spider monkey and burying his face in his undeniably sweaty neck while clamping his legs around his thick waist.

 

Without untucking his face from David’s neck he reached around and awkwardly thumped him on the back. See? Just bro-straddling his teambro, nothing gay going on here. No one so much as glanced up from their own manly butt-smacking and sobbing into each other’s shoulder pads.

 

David gave him a noogie with one hand and tightened the other one around Kurt’s butt, just to make sure he didn’t fall, surely. But when Finn came barreling up to them and tried to pluck Kurt off, David ever so subtly shifted his body around and blocked him. And… he wasn’t even looking at Kurt, he was talking to Finn and laughing casually… but…

 

His free hand settled heavily on the back of Kurt’s neck, keeping Kurt’s face pressed against his throat. And… Kurt kind of sank more firmly into David’s grasp and squeezed his legs tighter around his waist, and David… David cupped his hand around Kurt’s ass and squeezed back. And Kurt was pretty sure- for the first time in his life- that he really, truly, almost certainly wasn’t imagining things.

 

-

 

They all went to Breadstix to celebrate, cramming as many people as could possibly fit into each booth. Kurt sat next to Mercedes, hoping nobody had noticed him pushing her in before him, so that there just happened to be a free spot on his other side if anyone wanted to- David slid right in after him, his brawny arm stretching behind Kurt’s head and his mouth briefly right next to Kurt’s ear as he leaned in to shove his jacket onto the ledge behind them.

 

Kurt talked to Mercedes and David talked to Finn and Azimio, and the only thing he said to Kurt the entire meal was “Pass the salt.” But halfway through, when they weren’t touching at all- in fact Mike had gone to the bathroom, so there was plenty of room- David’s leg slid over and deliberately pressed against Kurt’s from hip to ankle.

 

Kurt somehow managed to laugh at a joke Tina made across the table, despite barely hearing anything over the ringing in his ears. He cautiously pressed back with his own leg. Hidden beneath the table, phantom fingers brushed delicately against the underside of Kurt’s wrist. Kurt gasped, then covered by pretending to cough over his drink. The fingers dropped to his thigh and dragged suggestively down to cup his knee.

 

Kurt desperately tried not to blush or shiver as David’s thumb rubbed slow, filthy circles against the back of his knee- he had never imagined that a simple touch to the knee could feel this dirty.

 

And then it was so easy to stand silently in the parking lot while David assigned people to cars and drivers until, seemingly coincidentally, he ended up in Kurt’s Navigator, the last person to be dropped off.

 

Even once they were finally alone in the car David only spoke to give him directions. Directions that were clearly not towards David’s house, or anyone’s house, yet Kurt didn’t say a word as they drove out along the notorious country road that Kurt, like most McKinley students, knew by reputation- but that he had never hoped to have reason to visit.

 

At length they pulled over, beneath the darkest patch of trees they could find, and Kurt turned the engine off with shaking fingers.

 

David cleared his throat and took off his seat belt. And then he leaned over very slowly to undo Kurt’s seat belt. One hand lingered to brush against Kurt’s hip and the other followed the path of the recoiling buckle diagonally across Kurt’s chest, up behind his head. His hand slid around Kurt’s jaw, gently forcing him to turn his face.

 

The hand by Kurt’s hip had wormed its way under his shirt to find bare skin and Kurt felt hypnotized as David simultaneously brushed featherlight circles against the dip of his spine and the sensitive skin behind his ear.

 

David’s eyes gleamed, unfathomable and alien in the darkness. Even as he felt David pulling him slowly, so slowly, close- the space between their faces seemed infinite and impassable. Kurt opened his lips the tiniest bit, afraid to do more, afraid that even breathing would break the spell-

 

It still seemed sudden when David sighed and slanted his hot, hot lips over Kurt’s.

 

-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings:
> 
> Body shaming (In Kurt's thoughts), nonverbal but enthusiastic consent to groping and kissing.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is all smut, additional warnings in end notes.

 

Kurt shivered as his hands crept around David’s wide shoulders. David’s lips gently forced his apart and then a moist tongue pushed into his mouth- which was still as weird of a sensation as when Brittany had done it, during their brief “relationship”- and he still wasn’t sure what the appeal was, but this was definitely more exciting.

 

It felt like the air around them was crackling with electricity and everything smelled like _boy_ \- suddenly that thing Brittany had said about kissing armpits popped into his head, but it seemed much less disgusting than it had at the time. And it was sort of thrilling that David was just so much bigger than him- the thick neck Kurt’s arms were wound around- the wide hand that wrapped from Kurt’s jaw around to the back of his head- and the apparent strength in the way David used his other hand, molded to the base of Kurt’s spine, to manhandle him effortlessly- pulling him halfway across the center divider.

 

Kurt was embarrassed by how much he liked the manhandling, but he _did_ , and then the blunt forefinger of the hand at the base of his spine slid audaciously down inside his pants and rubbed right between his- his _butt cheeks_. Kurt had never ever thought he would like that either, but he _really_ liked it.

 

David’s tongue kept sliding and thrusting into Kurt’s mouth while his finger rubbed between his cheeks in the same rhythm, faster and faster, a little further each time until his finger brushed over Kurt’s hole and Kurt made a startled, hungry noise, squeezing his arms hard around David’s neck and sucking eagerly at his invading tongue.

 

David moaned and drove his tongue even deeper, pushing Kurt’s head back against the seat as he kissed him hard and frantic until Kurt started coughing for air. David reared back hastily, a string of saliva gleaming between their separated mouths. Kurt tried to wipe his face, but David grabbed his wrist, eyes glittering dangerously, and kissed him right on his wet, spitty chin.

 

David kissed and nibbled down Kurt’s jaw as he urged his captured hand back to wrap around the headrest, squeezing Kurt’s wrist before he released it. He continued to nudge at Kurt’s jaw until he lifted his chin and then he pulled delicately at Kurt’s bowtie, smoothing the ends down over Kurt’s collarbone as he undid it, then kissed all up and down Kurt’s exposed throat as he popped the top buttons of his shirt open.

 

David traced over the tendons in Kurt’s neck, caressing with his fingers and suckling and biting with his mouth, while Kurt gripped at the headrest and gasped- necking was a real thing and it was amazing, who knew?

 

David mouthed hot kisses back up to Kurt’s ear and whispered “Do you want to get in the back seat?”

 

Kurt Hummel had always thought he was Not That Kind Of Boy, but he nodded furiously and started fumbling for the door handle without a second’s hesitation.

 

“Hold on, I’ve got you.”

 

David stilled Kurt’s fingers on the handle and dragged his thumb briefly over Kurt’s bottom lip with an almost shy smile. Then he lurched out his side of the Navigator, slamming his door behind him, and jogged around the hood to Kurt’s side.

 

The overhead light- that had briefly activated when the door opened- faded and Kurt’s eyes adjusted to the night again. He looked at the other boy through the glass- a broad, looming figure with hungry eyes, outside, under the dark trees, his breath painting patterns on the window in the cold night air. Kurt unlocked his door.

 

David pulled the door open and the cold rushed over Kurt’s skin as the overhead light blinded him again. David’s warm hands grasped his knees and turned him to face the open door, then pulled him forward in a sliding rush over the leather seat- suddenly David Karofsky was hot and solid between his legs, pinning him against the cold and solid car door as it slammed shut under their combined weight- and they were both outside in the cold, silent night.

 

Kurt tightened his legs around David’s waist, grabbed him by the hair, and kissed him like he had wanted to earlier, in the middle of the football field. David grunted in pleasure every time Kurt pulled his hair and crowded him closer against the Navigator.

 

It was freezing outside but everywhere that their bodies touched Kurt felt like he was burning up. David’s lips latched onto his neck and sucked a ring so hot that Kurt felt like he was being branded by his car’s cigarette lighter. Kurt gasped and yanked the other boy’s hair even harder. David’s own neck tendons were straining as he pulled against Kurt’s hold, eager to get at his throat again. Kurt watched a drop of sweat slide down David’s collarbone and bent his face down to bite at David’s neck in retaliation.

 

David hissed and grabbed obscene handfuls of Kurt’s ass, pulling him close, he pumped his groin against Kurt’s with hard, rolling motions.

 

Kurt held on for dear life as David did his best to hump him through the car door. David was clutching Kurt’s ass so tight that he was certain he would have perfect, hand-shaped bruises later and pumping the bulge in his crotch mercilessly against Kurt’s. Kurt whined and thrashed as the seam of his damnably tight pants ground against his erection and he saw stars.

 

David growled when Kurt started squirming and slammed his hips forward- jackhammering him against the car until the metal squeaked in protest.

 

“Da-a-ave!” Kurt protested breathlessly, his eye’s practically rolling back in his head.

 

David grunted in response and latched onto Kurt’s neck again, sucking eagerly as he continued to hump him so hard the entire Navigator shook.

 

“Dave- Ah! David!” He pried David’s face away from his neck, and grabbed him by the cheeks, forcing him to make eye contact, “Wait!”

 

David’s hips slowed as his eyes unglazed and he looked at Kurt with dawning horror.

 

“I’m sorr-”

 

Kurt tightened his legs before David could pull away and stroked his cheek urgently,

“No, not sorry, good- it’s good, just-“ he jerked his head at the back seat “I’m really cold and I think you’re gonna dent my door?”

 

David nodded and, Kurt swore, blushed. Kurt clung to him shamelessly as he eased his very shaky legs back to the ground. He stood there for a minute, face buried in David’s neck and reluctant to move, even though he was freezing.

 

He turned around eventually and opened the door, leaning over the dash to pop the rear hatch and the automatic rear seat recliners (Kurt loved his Navigator). David ‘helped’ by holding Kurt’s hips steady and plastering himself against Kurt’s back, rubbing his face against Kurt’s nape. Kurt was very proud of himself for remembering to turn on the heat, despite these unfair distractions.

 

David stayed plastered to Kurt’s back, walking them both around to the back of the car, his hands roaming underneath Kurt’s shirt to ‘keep him warm’. Kurt bent over to climb in the open hatch and deliberately ground his ass back against David’s erection with a smug look over his shoulder, before crawling forward.

 

“Tease!” David hissed. He pulled Kurt back and skimmed his hands up his torso to deliberately tweak his nipples. Kurt moaned and threw his head back against David’s shoulder.

 

“Whoa, that works on dudes’ nipples too?”

 

Kurt felt a burst of unreasonable rage at the thought of David touching some girl’s, or even multiple girls’, nipples (probably that skank Santana, with her factory-direct models) and- quick as a flash- he twisted around to yank David’s ugly, baggy polo shirt out of his tragic jeans- pushing it up to expose the other boy’s flat, brown nipples, surrounded by intriguing whorls of chest hair- and bit one, none too gently.

 

“Shit-shit-shit!” David fisted a hand in Kurt’s hair, scooped him up, and basically tossed him into the back of Navigator. He climbed in on top of him, pulling the hatch closed, and dropped his considerable weight fully onto Kurt, grinding him into the car bed with his heavy hips.

 

Kurt growled, actually growled, and tugged at the stupid polo shirt, pulling it over David’s head, along with his stupid jacket, ignoring his muffled protests as the tangled garments scraped his ears.

 

David’s bare chest filled Kurt’s entire field of vision, impossibly broad and muscled. He wished there was more light- even the blemishes- the odd pimple or stray hair, the heavy belly, were mesmerizing- emphasizing the fact that this was an actual, real-live half naked boy on top of him.

 

Kurt hesitantly traced the whorl of hair around David’s nipple, still shiny with saliva from Kurt biting it. He blew against the abused nipple gently and was fascinated when it visibly pebbled. He pressed against it with his thumb, and felt it stiffening in response.

 

David caught Kurt’s hand and pinned it above his head.

 

“My turn.” He pulled the end of Kurt’s loosened bowtie- the sound of the silk sliding around his collar made Kurt shiver.

 

Kurt brought his hand down to help with the many buttons on his shirt.

 

“ _My_ turn!” David yanked Kurt’s hands back over his head and tied his wrists to one of the seatbelt hooks with his own bowtie. He paused and cupped Kurt’s face, cocking his eyebrow in silent inquiry.

 

Kurt took a deep breath and tugged experimentally at his bound wrists. It wasn’t very tight- bowties weren’t long enough for intricate knots- and he could easily break free if he wanted to. He nodded and turned his head to softly kiss David’s palm.

 

David smiled and leaned down to brush their lips together softly, so very softly, and then tore Kurt’s shirt open with three sharp, successive jerks- genuine horn buttons flying everywhere.

 

“My shir-mmph!” David swallowed Kurt’s protests with a heady kiss, then, before Kurt could catch his breath, he dove down with a hungry groan to suck Kurt’s nipples.

 

Kurt screamed and David kissed him breathless again- pulling and twisting at his nipples while Kurt bucked and writhed beneath him. He alternated between deep, heady kisses and licking and biting down every inch of Kurt’s torso until Kurt was practically sobbing beneath him.

 

He paused when he had worked his way down to Kurt’s waistband and looked up to check with him- eyes nearly black with lust, but hands hovering tentatively over Kurt’s belt buckle.

 

Kurt nodded eagerly and raised his hips, thrusting his buckle impatiently into David’s grasp.

 

-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> David initiates several steps without first asking for Kurt's permission, but he then pauses and waits for clear (though nonverbal) consent to continue. 
> 
> Light bondage - David ties Kurt's over his head in a way that Kurt can easily escape if he wishes to.
> 
> Kurt has brief bodyshaming/slutshaming thoughts about Brittany and Santana.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter in the end notes, more serious than previous chapters-

 

 

Staring steadily into Kurt’s eyes, David slowly undid the buckle. His hands, so masterful only moments ago, trembled- hindering him as he slowly peeled Kurt’s frustratingly tight jeans and underpants down. They were both distracted by their battle with the clinging denim- Kurt wriggling and David tugging until they managed to get one leg free- the rest of the hell-pants getting stuck around Kurt’s other ankle- so it wasn’t till David grinned down at Kurt in triumph, victoriously waving the single boot he had managed to pry off, that it really hit both boys that David’s face was hovering right over Kurt’s naked, engorged cock..

 

Kurt averted his face, mortified at even thinking the word cock in his head, worried that it looked funny, worried that it might _smell_ , worried that David might have somehow overlooked that he was making out with another boy up until this point and was about to freak out.

 

David stared and stared. At last he ran a careful finger down Kurt’s length. Kurt whimpered, his hips thrusting forward of their own volition. David wrapped his wide fist around Kurt’s shaft and squeezed.

 

From what Kurt had gathered since taking over Finn’s laundry, he touched himself far less often than the average (before he came out he used to have this fear that his dad would walk in on him and catch him having gay thoughts – and he knew his dad loved him now – but it was a difficult fear to get over) and even when he did his own hand could never exert this much pressure or feel this fucking good- his mouth opened in a silent scream.

 

David stopped Kurt’s mouth with his own, robbing him of his breath in slow, suffocating swells, kissing deeper with each roll of his insatiable tongue, giant hand pumping Kurt’s shaft ruthlessly in time. The fingers of his free hand stroked curiously through the thatch of hair around Kurt’s groin and gave an experimental tug.

 

They were both surprised when Kurt reacted by thrashing and bucking like he was in The Exorcist. Fascinated, David abandoned Kurt’s cock and dug both hands into his pubic hair, pulling teasingly at the delicate curls. Kurt whined and thrashed his head from side to side, tugging at his bound hands as he pumped his hips pleadingly upwards.

 

David ran his hands down Kurt’s arms, pressing them against the car bed as he speared his tongue deep into Kurt’s moth one more time. Then he reared up, grinning wickedly and pulled sharply at Kurt’s armpit hair.

 

“Ah! Bastard!”

 

Kurt tried to buck David off or, failing that, kick him, but David just snickered and set about making Kurt squeal- diving in to nip or pinch or lick in a flurry of sneak attacks- neck, belly button, side of the ribs, elbow, earlobe, behind the knee- until Kurt was alternately shrieking with laughter and cursing like a sailor (Kurt had an excellent ear for dialogue and he had spent his formative years around extremely salty mechanics).

 

“David! Fucki- stop! I’m going to rip every hair out of your- ah!- out of your ballsac with a rusty set of nail clippers!”

 

David clicked his tongue. “Mr. Hummel, such language. I thought you were a gentleman!”

 

“You’re not cute.” Kurt tried for an intimidating glare, but the effect was spoiled when David smacked a kiss right in the middle of his furrowed brow. “Ha!” Kurt crowed in triumph as he rolled his hips up and wrapped his legs around David’s head before he could pull back out of range.

 

“I guess you got me where you want me, huh?”

 

David squeezed Kurt’s thighs, wrapped on either side of his face, and slid his hands down and around. He grabbed firm handfuls of Kurt’s ass and hoisted his pelvis up into the air like a platter, so that he only had to dip his chin a little to suck Kurt’s cock into his mouth.

 

Kurt’s arched like a bow, stretched taut, grounded only by his bound wrists and his curling toes, the rest of his weight supported by David’s firm hands and the hot, inexorable pull of his mouth. Kurt felt not just like he was suspended, but like he was flying, falling, drowning upwards.

 

The car filled with the sound of wet suction, punctuated by Kurt’s rhythmic gasps and moans. His legs flailed over David’s shoulders, feet finding purchase on the other boy’s broad back, and he used the leverage to thrust deeper towards the back of David’s throat.

 

David was willing but unprepared and choked around Kurt’s cock. Kurt slipped entirely out of his mouth as David fell forward, coughing out long strings of saliva. Kurt’s legs were still trapped over David’s shoulders, so he was practically folded in half as the heavier boy collapsed on top of him, coughing wetly into his neck, the feel of their bellies pressed together, expanding and contracting sharply with David’s panting breaths, shockingly intimate.

 

While David lay on top of him gasping softly, pulse fluttering against Kurt’s chest and belly undulating frustratingly against Kurt’s trapped cock, Kurt struggled with his bindings and used his feet to push impatiently at the waistband of David’s jeans, annoyed when his toes kept getting stuck in the stupid carpenter’s loop.

 

“Off, off, off!”

 

“Sorry-“ David tried to lift his bulk off of Kurt, neck hunching turtle-like back into his shoulders.

 

“ _Pants_ off,” Kurt clarified, managing to work a hand free from the bowtie and pulling David’s head back down to press a tiny kiss next to his ear.

 

David nodded against Kurt’s throat and reached down to fumble with his fly. Kurt helped him shove his jeans off, but he got distracted when he saw the beast that sprang free when David wrestled his boxers down.

 

When Kurt thought about penises, he imagined that one penis would be much like any other, but David’s was significantly thicker and a darker color than Kurt’s, flushed almost red, and just very arrestingly not Kurt’s.

 

David also stared avidly down at the contrast between their two cocks. He angles his hips and stroked his ruddy, weeping head up Kurt’s shiny, saliva-slicked shaft. They both gasped and David ground down in earnest.

 

Implacable hands grabbed Kurt’s ass, dragging him right where David wanted- all Kurt could do was cling onto David’s shoulders and gasp as he was ploughed into the car bed. He hooked his chin over David’s shoulder, fascinated by the way the very developed muscles of his buttocks clenched and released as he snapped his hips harder and harder.

 

Kurt was a sweaty, boneless mess- all of his focus narrowed down to the harsh friction between their cocks, if David thrust any harder Kurt imagined that they might actually spark a fire- it burned in the best and the worst way.

 

Sensing Kurt’s distracted gaze over his shoulder, David nudged their faces together and captured Kurt’s lips- demanding his full attention. Kurt looked up into David’s face. He looked destroyed. His eyes were shining like that day he’d apologized in the locker room, his expression was as tender and soft as his hips were currently punishing and demanding.

 

Kurt’s heart jumped, then his cock jumped, and he was spilling out between their bellies before he knew it.

 

He was floating somewhere, eyes refusing to focus, as David fisted his softening but still tingling cock, gathering up every drop of come. And then David deftly flipped Kurt over and rubbed his wet hand down Kurt’s crack. Before Kurt could care if that was too gross or not David was back on top of him, thrusting urgently between Kurt’s now slightly lubricated ass cheeks.

 

The head of his penis dragged over Kurt’s hole with every thrust and Kurt found himself mewling and spreading his legs wider, angling his ass up , desperate for harder use. He knew that if they had brought proper supplies David would absolutely be fucking him now- and Kurt would be begging him to.

 

Their bodies slapped together wetly, Kurt’s ass quivering with the force of David’s thrusts, the Navigator rocking furiously around them. David sweetly cradled the top of Kurt’s head with one hand, preventing him from knocking against the seat backs as David’s thrusts drove them forward. His other hand snaked under their pumping hips and cradled Kurt’s spent cock.

 

David gave one last savage, stuttering thrust and Kurt could swear he felt the other boy’s cock swell between his ass cheeks before hot come spattered over the small of his back. David bit down on the nape of Kurt’s neck and growled like an animal as he rolled his hips squeezing every last drop of his come between their bodies.

 

Hot, sticky, and utterly spent, Kurt felt like the filling of a grilled cheese sandwich- melting between the all leather interior of his car and the comforting bulk of the boy on top of him. The boy who was beginning to stir again, lazily kissing the bite marks he had just left on the back of Kurt’s neck. Kurt arched his head back and David nuzzled up his neck to his cheek.

 

Kurt wiggled and David guiltily shifted his weight, trying to sit up, but Kurt flipped over onto his back and immediately threw his arms and legs around David, pulling him back on top of him.

 

They stayed that way for an indeterminable amount of time- quietly gazing into each other's eyes, tracing featherlight fingertips and kisses over each other's faces.

 

Drawing courage from the soft glow in David’s expression, Kurt sucked in his breath- psyching himself up to ask if they were going out now. But before he could speak the strident sounds of Sir Mix-a-Lot proclaiming his preference for large butts came blaring out of tinny speakers, somewhere down by their feet.

 

David sprang back, cracking his head on the roof and swearing. He rolled around, pawing frantically through the jeans twisted around his ankles until he fished out his phone.

 

“Hey, Dad… Nothin’ special- I dropped Zee off but then I remembered I left all my crap in the locker room. Yeah… no, I’m so ready for this night to be over… 20-25 minutes, probably. K, bye.”

 

Kurt slowly curled up on his side during this conversation and began to think about how dirty and sticky both he and his premium leather seat-backs were. Karofsky was struggling back into his pants while he talked.

 

After Karofsky hung up he sat there for a minute before clearing his throat nervously. He laid a tentative hand on Kurt’s ankle. Kurt curled up tighter and looked pointedly out the fogged over window.

 

“Hey, um… can you drop me back at school? I left my truck there.”

 

Kurt squeezed his eyes shut. “No problem. Can you… can you get me the moist towelettes out of the gl-glove compartment?”

 

“Uh… sure.” Karofsky grabbed the rest of his clothes and practically leapt out of the back hatch. Icy night wind needled Kurt’s naked skin before he slammed the hatch shut again. Karofsky ran around to the front passenger seat with another quick blast of frigid air and the humiliating addition of the overhead light. He dug around for the towelettes, tossed them back towards Kurt, and then apparently became extremely engrossed with untangling his polo shirt from his jacket.

 

Kurt wiped the worst of the stickiness off of himself with trembling hands. He’d have to sneak out and deal with the leather-work tomorrow morning. He could blame it on one of the Cheerios puking up a milkshake, maybe. He tried to hunch behind the seats as much as possible while he pulled his clothes on, although Karofsky was still keeping his eyes firmly averted, even when Kurt had to hand him his giant, dirty sneakers over the center divider.

 

Kurt dropped the soiled towelettes on the ground as he slipped back into the driver’s seat. They blended right in with all of the torn condom wrappers and crushed beer cans.

 

He started the engine without another word or glance at Karofsky.

 

“Kurt-“

 

Kurt turned the radio up as loud as it would go.

 

-

 

When they pulled up in front of the deserted school Kurt pointedly clicked the passenger side lock open. Karofsky sighed and leaned over to touch Kurt’s chin. Kurt jerked his head away.

 

“Night’s over, Karofsky.”

 

“Kurt, I-“

 

“Believe me; I am just as _ready_ for this to be over as you are.”

 

Karofsky grabbed his chin again and kissed him hard, mashing their lips together. Kurt bit down until he tasted blood. Karofsky pulled back with a hiss, but then he deliberately ran his tongue over his bloodied lip and thrust back into Kurt’s mouth, until Kurt found himself kissing back, despite himself, chasing after the coppery tang on Karofsky’s tongue.

 

He gripped Kurt’s bottom lip with his teeth as he pulled back, deliberately _not_ biting down in retaliation. Then he was gone, slamming the Navigator’s door angrily behind him.

 

-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings- Unprotected oral and intergluteal sex, manhandling, poistcoital regret and disgust, angry borderline dubcon kissing, during which Kurt deliberately bites Dave and draws blood.


	8. Chapter 8

 

Kurt got away with it scot free. His dad yawned complacently through his explanations of getting turned around in Lima Heights and nobody ever remarked on the disappearance of his new dress shirt and 3rd best bowtie (which must have fallen out of the car – no way was he going back for it, if it was lying on the ground with all that disgusting trash) from his wardrobe rotation. Nor was anyone surprised that he would obsessively clean out his car at 6 am on a weekend.

 

By Monday morning he was practically vibrating with bottled up shame. The school week was a nauseating blend of avoiding Karofsky- who kept popping up ominously out of nowhere- obviously trying to get Kurt alone so that he could dump him and/or threaten him with violence if he didn’t sign an NDA in his own blood- and failing to avoid all the gross Valentine’s Day crap, which was particularly insidious this year.

 

Luckily Mercedes, Rachel, and even Santana were similarly at war with all things Valentine’s-themed so he was able to use them as a buffer-zone of bitterness and Karofsky didn’t have a real chance to try and corner him until Friday.

 

Kurt looked in his locker for one second and when he looked up he was almost alone in the hallway with Karofsky. Kurt stared fixedly into his locker again and tried to pretend that he couldn’t sense exactly how close Karofsky’s body was to his own. Strong fingers brushed Kurt’s hand aside and firmly closed his locker door.

 

But then wonderful, oblivious Finn came up, clapped Karofsky on the shoulder, and started blathering to him about joining the glee club permanently.

 

Finn finished his pitch and grinned at Karofsky expectantly. Karofsky flicked a nervous glance at Kurt. Kurt rolled his eyes and made a big production out of opening his locker _again_ and pretending to ignore the both of them.

 

Karofsky’s mouth tightened into a bitter little twist, then he chuckled unpleasantly and explained to Finn that he was crazy if he thought anything would ever really change at McKinley, and that there was no way he was going to commit social suicide by joining glee when he was finally on top.

 

“Oh yeah? You like being on top?” Kurt couldn’t resist- he danced out of Karofsky’s reach, words pouring out of it him in an ever shriller tone- “Well enjoy your precious popularity while it lasts, David Karofsky, because you are nothing special in the real world. You’re just a scared little boy who can’t handle how extraordinarily ordinary you are- and once high school is over I will never- _no one_ will ever bother to even think about you ever, ever again!”

 

He got so piercing at the end that Finn winced and rubbed his ear. With a parting jab at Karofsky’s chest with the finger that he’d apparently been poking him with since midway through his diatribe, Kurt spun on his heel and stalked away, snapping his fingers at Finn to follow him.

 

“Dude, Kurt, are you crying?” Finn whispered, confused, as they headed for the parking lot.

 

“I just r-really care about the glee club, ok? What is so wrong and disgusting about being- being in goddamn glee club?” Kurt wiped furiously at his eyes, then punched Finn in the shoulder without warning. “And don’t call me dude!”

 

“Ow! Why can’t I call you dude? Is it a weird gay slang thing I don’t wanna know about?”

 

“No, it… just makes you sound like kind of an airhead, I guess? But it’s too late to fix that, so, whatever, go ahead and call me dude.”

 

Kurt ran away cackling when Finn tried to dead-arm him in return. It took Finn long enough to catch up that he didn’t see the playful expression immediately drop from Kurt’s face.

 

-

 

Luckily Finn was too busy with his greedy, disgusting kissing booth- and the well-deserved virus that he came down with as a consequence of allowing his lips to be used like the lid of a public toilet- to notice that Kurt continued to get teary eyed about ‘glee club’ throughout the weekend.

 

There was no escape anywhere from the putrid romance. Kurt had to leave the mall- his only happy place- because there was an obnoxious acapella group harassing everyone with inappropriate songs- that’s what he got for letting clearance sale prices lure him into a crass, soulless pit of conformity like The Gap. And even when he came home- irritated and un-retail-therapied- he caught a still feverish Finn trying to sneak an equally sluggish Quinn into his room.

 

“Oh no, not this again! Finn Hudson, you will not make the glee club suffer through yet another round of your goddamn baby mama drama!”

 

The guilty looking couple tried to shut him out of the bedroom but they were too sick to put up much of a fight. Kurt grabbed a broom and nudged Finn till he fell onto his bed. Finn flopped pathetically but lacked the energy to stand back up. He was asleep within 40 seconds. Pulling his scarf over his mouth, Kurt pointed the broom at Quinn and herded her out to the landing.

 

“You can’t keep us apart, Kurt. Finn and I are meant to be together! We have this thing between us- call it fate, call it unfinished business-“

 

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Finn never managed to slip you the business, and it still bugs him that Puck did. Are you honestly in love with him or do you just not want Rachel to get him again?”

 

“Rachel’s getting out of here the second that high school’s over- they don’t have a future- but I can see a life together for us.”

Kurt covered his hand with his sleeve and patted her wrist. “But is that really a life that you want? Micromanaging Finn like a never-ending episode of Modern Family? Why did you give up… everything you gave up last year, if you didn’t want to get out, too?”

 

“I- it’s not fair, everything that happened- Finn and I never had our chance.”

 

“I’m not trying to sound preachy,” Kurt said preachily, “but it’s not like things just happened to you, beyond your control. You both had choices and you both made decisions, and that’s why you didn’t last. What about Sam? I thought you really liked him? He’s certainly handsome, and he seems pretty nice but also fairly ambitious, like I thought you were-“

 

Quinn looked away guiltily. “I guess. Sam’s great, but he can be kind of nerdy, and he’s still so young. Finn’s really stepped up lately- he’s the most popular boy in school again.”

 

“He’s the most popular boy in school, _this_ week. Oh, well- if you’re willing to gamble that Finn can keep his eye on the prize- Sam will probably be fine. I mean Santana was all over him the other day, so-“

 

Quinn snapped to attention remarkably quickly for someone who had just been using the bannister as a pillow. “What?! Santana was coming on to _my_ boyfriend?”

 

She started dragging herself down the stairs, muttering furiously. “You quit Cheerios for one second and people think they can walk all over you- I’ll show her and her sloppy-ass ponytail- Kurt, call me a taxi!”

 

Finn seemed pretty bummed when he woke up and Quinn was gone, but then he passed out again and had to go to the emergency room to get pumped full of fluids- so, whatever, Kurt thought- perspective.

 

-

 

Not that Kurt could summon up much perspective to get himself through Valentine’s Day- which was also a Monday, because it wasn’t already the most excruciating day of the year. All of the couples were fastened to each other’s faces like lampreys. Quinn was clutching Sam especially tight and breathing her germs all over him- ensuring that he would be too weak to escape, even if he did suspect her of wavering between him and Finn last week.

 

Kurt suffered through a long day of aggressive heterosexuality and slumped into glee club to be subjected to more of the same, this time set to music, before he could start his exciting evening plans that consisted of sitting alone in the dark. He’d briefly considered orchestrating a lonely hearts dinner, but he was feeling far too stabby after the events he was not going to think about.

 

There were five minutes of practice left- Kurt was dividing his time between glaring at the clock and glaring at the several tongue-wrestling matches going on around him- when the door suddenly crashed open, startling Mercedes out of the nap she had been taking on Kurt’s shoulder, and David Fucking Karofsky stomped in. He was holding a beat up acoustic guitar and sporting a murderous glare that put Kurt’s to shame.

 

Kurt vaguely heard Mr. Schue asking a question and David grunting some sort of response- Mercedes might have also been hissing at him to stop digging his nails into her hand- but it was too hard to make out individual words over the buzzing in his ears.

 

David sat in a chair facing the glee club, eyes stubbornly on the ground, and began playing quietly- something with simple chords. The guitar cut through the buzzing and everything focused down to a narrow point. Kurt recognized the song from the research he had done during his ridiculously insincere macho flannel experiment last year.

 

There was nothing ridiculous about David as he took a deep breath and began to sing in an utterly sincere, somewhat raspy, startlingly mature baritone-

 

[“Hey little one is your daddy home“](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lrpXArn3hII)

 

(Kurt knew that the actual lyric was ‘little _girl_ ’- maybe David had flubbed the gender pronoun accidentally, but maybe- maybe…)

 

“Did he go and leave you all alone- mm-hmm

I got a bad desire

Oh-oh-oh, I’m on fire”

 

His eyes flicked up finally- straight at Kurt. All too quickly his gaze skittered away again- settling briefly on each girl in the room, in turn. Kurt ground his teeth as he watched every single one of them visibly melt under the attention.

 

“Tell me now baby

Is he good to you

Can he do to you the things that I do

Oh no, I can take you higher”

 

He arched his eyebrow suggestively and Mercedes gasped and dug _her_ nails into Kurt’s hand.

 

“Oh-oh-oh

I’m on fire

 

Sometimes it’s like someone took a knife, baby,

Edgy and dull, and cut a six-inch valley

Through the middle of my soul”

 

That terrible soft, sad look from the locker room was back in his eyes, unbearably raw and vulnerable. Kurt wanted to leap down the risers and shield him from prying eyes.

 

“At night I wake up with the sheets soaking wet

And a freight train running through the

Middle of my head”

 

He looked at the floor again.

 

“Only you-“

 

He looked back up, and his face was so sweet- yes, David Karofsky, whom earlier that day Kurt had seen shove an entire triple Egg McMuffin in his mouth- sweet.

 

“You can cool my desire

Oh-oh-oh, I’m on fire”

 

The last few chords faded out and David gently stilled the strings with his big, capable fingers. The room was silent. He coughed nervously and hunched over in his now classic Ninja Turtle of insecurity pose.

 

Santana let out a long, lascivious wolf whistle. Everyone except Kurt burst into loud applause and cheers. The girls descended on David, literally prying their boyfriends off of themselves to get at him, in some cases.

 

“Ooo, a baritone! About time!”

 

“Damn, you got soul, beef-bus!”

 

“There’s no denying your potential talent, but I think you would really benefit from private vocal lessons, I would be happy to donate my time- for the good of the glee club, of course- my dads won’t be home tomorrow night-“

 

David’s focus was pulled from girl to girl, but he seemed to have one eye on Kurt. Kurt slowly descended the risers, he had to keep stopping and grabbing the backs of chairs for support, for some reason his knees kept threatening to give out.

 

He’d just taken a shaky step to the floor in front of David when Santana pushed between them and trailed her sharpened talons over David’s bicep.

 

“Damn, you’re getting pretty jacked, Karofsky. I swear your muscles are even bigger than they were last week.”

 

David looked down at her. Her ridiculous flotation devices, which were no longer constrained by the comparative modesty of a Cheerios uniform, spilled over her cheap-looking top and pressed against his chest.

Kurt kept walking right past them, straight out the door.

 

He really, really wanted to go home, but he couldn’t seem to remember his locker combination- the buzzing in his ears was back. He leaned his burning face against the cool metal. Oh, locker- his only friend.

 

Eventually he remembered his combination, but then his hands kept shaking and he kept accidentally twisting the dial too far- stupid locker! Kurt kicked it, he hoped it dented forever.

 

Large hands slid over Kurt’s fingers- stilling them like jangly guitar strings. The hands knew Kurt’s combination (which was a slightly unsettling mystery for another day- but probably had something to do with all the sustained staring that had happened in front of this locker) and gently guided his fingers. The lock clicked open and the hands retreated.

 

Kurt could sense a large, warm mass behind him, but there was no touching or speaking or turning around to look.

 

He opened his locker. There was something sitting on top of his books. He picked it up- it was a box of matches. A box of matches with a K+D clumsily written on the lid in red glitter-glue. Surrounded by a heart and what were probably supposed to be flames.

 

Kurt put the matches in his breast pocket, knowing full well that he would never get the glitter out of the winter-weight wool. He switched out his books, retrieved his coat, and closed his locker. He walked down the hall, not looking behind him, but paused and waited before he turned the corner, and again before he punched in the code (that Mr. Schue had given him after a prolonged guilt-trip) on the door of the single occupancy staff bathroom.

 

It was dark and quiet inside and smelled like potpourri rather than urine- unlike the rest of the school- let alone the rest of the school bathrooms. He turned around to twist the deadbolt- he had to reach around David’s shoulders to get at it. And then he had to bury his face in David’s neck, just for a little while.

 

-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No real warnings this chapter- Kurt finds heterosexual romance disgusting and unsanitary and has unkind thoughts about Santana's body. Finn and Quinn have unrealistic cases of mono, as in canon- the incubation period for mono is much longer than the time frame put forth on the show.
> 
> I'm On Fire as written and performed by Bruce Springsteen, from his 1985 album, Born in the U.S.A. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lrpXArn3hII (This is the official video, which is not acoustic, but you can find live versions with acoustic guitar on Youtube).
> 
> This chapter takes place during the episode Silly Love Songs, in original canon. Most of it was written well before Heart aired and therefore doesn't really reflect Dave's canon Valentine's romancing.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mild sexual warnings in the end notes-

 

David was shivering. Kurt could see goose bumps as he breathed against the side of David’s neck. He turned his face a little and watched David’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed nervously. Obviously Kurt had to lean in and lick it.

 

David jerked away.

 

“Ah! Tickles!”

 

Kurt grinned ferally and launched himself at David- doing his best to climb him like a tree. David fell back against the door with a loud thud as Kurt swarmed up him- locking his legs around David’s solid waist and yanking at David’s stupid letterman with his hands- pulling it out of the way so that he could attack David’s neck with a flurry of nips, licks and kisses.

 

He tugged on David’s earlobe with his teeth and the other boy grunted, abruptly grabbed Kurt’s ass _hard_ , and flipped them around so that Kurt was the one trapped against the door.

 

David pulled Kurt’s hips flush against his own and rubbed his very evident erection against Kurt’s groin. He rolled his hips lasciviously, grinding their dicks together, tilting Kurt’s pelvis with a firm grip on his ass, until he hit on the right angle. Despite the layers of denim between them Kurt moaned as David’s dick stroked against his own exactly right.

 

David smirked as he humped Kurt in earnest, thrusting so hard that the door rattled on its hinges. His thrusting hips were more than strong enough to keep Kurt pinned so he let go of Kurt’s ass with a last, proprietary, squeeze and roughly divested Kurt of his various shirts (and vest) - at least he had the courtesy to undo the buttons this time, rather than tearing them off. Nice to know he didn’t have a death wish- that had been hot the first time, but there were limits to the indignities Kurt would allow his wardrobe to suffer.

 

The same could not, apparently, be said for his body, as Kurt eagerly allowed David to suck a string of hickeys across his throat and chest. When David gave Kurt’s nipple a teasing slurp and tried to move on Kurt moaned like a- like a _slutty slut_ \- he thought to himself- and fisted a hand in David’s short curls, yanking his head down and thrusting his chest up.

 

David took the hint and enveloped Kurt’s nipple in his hot mouth. He suckled it with a dirty, wet, smacking sound, flicking the edge of his thumbnail unbearably lightly over Kurt’s other nipple and pumping his hips harder and harder- until Kurt was practically bouncing against the door.

 

Kurt gasped and writhed, digging his fingernails into David’s scalp, trying to pull his mouth even harder against his chest- his other hand snaked down the back of David’s jeans- he wanted to feel the powerful muscles at work as they pounded him against the door.

 

“Mmmm,” David moaned. Kurt took the opportunity to yank his face over to Kurt’s other nipple. The sudden heat contrasted deliciously with the sensation of cold air on the wet, tenderized flesh of his already worked-over nipple.

 

When David simultaneously scraped his teeth over one bud and plucked at the other with his fingernails Kurt let out a high-pitched bark and scratched his nails over David’s butt-cheek in retaliation. David smirked up at Kurt, teeth still latched over his nipple, and nibbled harder. Kurt hissed and narrowed his eyes. He dragged his fingers down the cleft in David’s ass, found a curl of hair right next to his hole, and pulled viciously.

 

David growled and grabbed Kurt’s wrists, pinning them to the door.

 

“You wanna play dirty, huh?” He whispered in Kurt’s ear- “You wanna go…” He thrust the tip of his tongue as deep as it would go into Kurt’s ear canal, Kurt’s head thrashed against the door, “…spelunking?”

 

“Never call it that again, oh my god, you’re so embarrassing.”

 

“So was that a yes- or?”

 

Kurt couldn’t bring himself to meet David’s eyes. He nodded against his cheek, David’s stubble catching deliciously against the finer hairs of Kurt’s sideburn. He took a deep breath and sank the tip of his finger into David’s hole.

 

He had a moment to marvel at the heat and the tightness before he was yanked off the door and manhandled to the floor. He raised an offended hand to his hair- no way was he resting his head on any kind of bathroom floor- but, before he could voice a protest, David shoved his letterman underneath Kurt’s head as a buffer.

 

Then there was some undignified scrambling as Kurt tried to pull David’s polo over his head at the same time as David tugged fruitlessly at Kurt’s boots with many dirty looks at their complicated buckles.

 

“Ugh, those are just for show, dummy! There’s a zipper on the back, here.” Kurt impatiently pulled David’s hand to the top of the zipper, just below the back of his knee.

 

David knelt between Kurt’s legs- shirtless, pants undone, chest heaving and eyes glittering. He stroked a finger behind Kurt’s knee then pulled down the zipper on his boot in one slow, continuous motion. He peeled the boot off, along with its sock, and squeezed Kurt’s bare foot before pulling it up to rest on his broad, very naked shoulder.

 

Kurt lay beneath him, spellbound, while his other foot received the same treatment.

 

“Zippers, huh?” David murmured as he leaned down and unzipped Kurt’s tight, tight jeans. He whipped them off, underwear included, in two seconds flat.

 

He stood up to kick off his own jeans and Kurt was treated to a fascinating look up his tree trunk legs to the underside of his, um, equipment. Kurt had never considered this angle before- David’s balls looked especially fascinating- he wanted to cup them.

 

But then David was back on the floor with him, triumphantly brandishing a bottle of hand lotion from the sink.

 

Kurt propped himself up on his elbows to watch as David squirted out a generous handful of lotion and carefully palmed Kurt’s erection. Kurt hissed at the sudden coldness, but David pulled his fist up and down and the added slickness was amazing. Jesus, so, _so_ amazing- as god was Kurt’s witness- he was never dry-humping dry again!

 

He spread his legs and planted his feet, thrusting up into David’s grip. David kept pumping him as he tentatively stroked his other hand down, over Kurt’s balls, then along the tender strip of his perineum to his hole.

 

Kurt tensed momentarily. But then he reached up to wrap his arms around David’s neck for a brief nuzzle and several deep breaths before lying back down and fixing David with a trusting look. David’s breath hitched as he rubbed more lotion over his hands and sank his finger determinedly into Kurt’s hole.

 

Kurt closed his eyes and tried to relax into the sensation, but even just a finger felt so big- and it stung kind of a lot- but David kept adding lotion as he cautiously worked his finger in and out, in and out- there was something mesmerizing about the rhythmic drag against Kurt’s tight ring of muscle.

 

As Kurt’s passage got slicker, David’s finger sank deeper and deeper each time it pushed in, and then it slid in far enough to press against- holy fuck- people were not fucking kidding about the fucking prostate!

 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Kurt chanted as his eyes flew open.

 

David was staring intently at his finger as it sank into Kurt’s hole, his jaw clenched in what Kurt was beginning to recognize as arousal, but his eyes flicked up worriedly at Kurt’s outburst and he started to withdraw his finger.

 

Kurt whined and thrust his ass as hard as he could against David’s hand, clenching his muscles around the finger- which created another new and amazing sensation.

 

“Again! Deeper- there! Ah! Ah! Ah!”

 

Kurt fucked himself on David’s finger until David figured out where the spot was and began nailing it on his own, thrusting and rubbing his fingertip over it relentlessly. Kurt grabbed wildly at David’s shoulders and planted his feet on the floor so that he could arch his back and thrust himself harder against the plundering finger- fingers- there were two now, and it was-

 

“So good!” He gasped.

 

David quirked an eyebrow at him, curious.

 

“Really?”

 

Kurt tightened his grip on David’s shoulders, hooked his feet behind David’s knees and rolled them- smirking when David complained as his ass hit the cold linoleum.

 

“Stop whining, I warmed it up for you.”

 

Kurt affected a cool, businesslike demeanor he was very far from feeling as he coated his hands in the (nasty-flower-smelling, off-brand) lotion and parted David’s impressive thighs, thereby revealing David’s extremely impressive erection. Slowly Kurt wrapped his hand around it. It felt so thick, so alive, in his grasp.

 

“Kurt!” David moaned.

 

Kurt felt delirious. He had to lean over and rest his weight on the solid, warm bulwark of David’s body- had to be kissing David, brushing his lips gently over David’s mouth as he squeezed his hand firmly around David’s shaft.

 

David grabbed Kurt’s hips and pulled him even closer, thrusting his cock eagerly into Kurt’s grasp. Kurt slapped at David’s chest with his free hand and pulled back, resting on his knees.

 

“Hold still! Let me show you-“

 

Still working David’s cock, Kurt used his other hand to cup and gently squeeze David’s deliciously furred ballsack- like he had wanted to, earlier- and then slid his hand down between his also deliciously furred ass cheeks and began rubbing at his hole- distantly amazed both that David Karofsky was freely allowing him, Kurt Hummel, to play with his butt- and that he, Kurt Hummel, found every hairy inch of said butt so delightful.

 

His comparatively slender finger slid right in, and he slowly worked David’s tight channel till he brushed over the right spot, and David’s cock twitched mightily in Kurt’s other hand, pre-come dribbling out of the tip, coating the tip in alluring shininess.

 

Kurt licked his lips, he just had to-

 

He leaned down, opening his mouth, and stretched out his tongue like a cat to lick delicately at the droplets of pre-come. Hmm. It tasted kind of like nothing, kind of like salt but… good. He licked harder- kind of like- ugh-ugh-ugh!

 

Kurt reared up and bent over the sink, frantically scooping water into his mouth and spitting it back out again.

 

“Lotion!” He hissed as David scrambled up behind him, looking rather hurt and offended- “Foul, cheap-smelling, tastes-like-burning lotion!” He glared as David’s reflection began to snicker over his shoulder. “Never. Again. You need to suck it up and go buy some actual lube.”

 

“How come _I_ have to?”

 

“Because this is all your fault- shh!”

 

Kurt swung his hand back and jabbed a lotiony finger against David’s lips, using the mirror for guidance. David recoiled in disgust at the taste of the horrid lotion.

 

He wrapped a beefy arm around Kurt’s waist and pulled him away from the sink- holding Kurt prisoner against his side, despite Kurt’s angry squawks, while he rinsed his own mouth out. When he had finished gargling, with spiteful slowness, he returned Kurt to his rightful place in front of the sink- only to rub his wet face roughly against Kurt’s back, using him like an extremely indignant living towel.

 

A living towel covered in goose bumps from the tingly feel of David’s stubble.

 

David eyed Kurt’s sensitive skin with interest and started nibbling at the nape of his neck. Kurt sighed and lolled his head back on David’s shoulder, watching their reflections with heavy-lidded eyes.

 

David caught his eyes and bared his teeth for show- biting possessively at Kurt’s neck. He arms tightened around Kurt’s waist and one meaty fist slid down around Kurt’s cock.

 

They both watched in the mirror avidly as Kurt’s erection sprang back to life in David’s grasp, visibly lengthening and swelling, yet still completely engulfed by those thick fingers.

 

David hunched over Kurt, plastered against his back, squeezing him tight around his waist, as he sucked on his neck, fisted his cock, and rolled his own cock against Kurt’s ass in urgent rhythm.

 

Kurt tossed his head against David’s shoulder, gasping for breath. His hips rolled frantically- trying to thrust forward into David’s grip and back against the thickness spearing against his ass at the same time.

 

David rolled his hips harder and pumped Kurt’s lotion-slicked erection faster. His legs squeezed on either side of Kurt’s, pressing them together, and then he was rooting around, the tip of his cock dragging stickily over the underside of Kurt’s ass, as he thrust his length into the apex of Kurt’s clenched thighs.

 

Kurt could feel it sliding back and forth against his taint, nudging insistently at the base of his balls. The sight in the mirror was deliciously dirty- David’s reddened, leaking tip appearing and disappearing beneath Kurt’s balls- while Kurt’s own swollen tip appeared and disappeared over the edge of David’s fist- Dave’s face, staring hungrily at exactly the same things.

 

The room was silent, except for their labored breaths and the wet squelching of David’s hand around Kurt’s shaft and his cock between Kurt’s thighs.

 

Kurt twisted his face and caught the edge of David’s mouth in a sloppy kiss. He felt David’s hips stutter and his cock swell- Kurt clamped his thighs tighter as David thrust raggedly- and then David came with a breathy moan, spilling warm semen against the back of Kurt’s balls and all down his legs, as his grasp tightened convulsively around Kurt’s cock.

 

Kurt shuddered, and then he was abruptly coming too, spurting over David’s fingers- remaining upright only thanks to David’s solid bulk pinning him against the sink.

 

They sagged against each other, gasping for breath.

 

Kurt swiped his finger over the trail of David’s come running down his thigh and cautiously tasted it.

 

“Huh. Well anything would taste more palatable after that god-awful lotion, I suppose.”

 

David gave a weak chuckle, that quickly turned into a groan at the sight of his come on Kurt’s lips, and spun Kurt around to kiss his newly-recovered breath away.

 

“So picky, Fancy.” David whispered against Kurt’s lips- once he had kissed him silly and left him panting for air again.

 

Kurt pulled his head back and glared. David chased after his lips, whining-

 

“C’mon, it’s a pet name.”

 

“Whatever, Supercuts.”

 

-

 

Trying to scrub another boy’s come off his thighs- hunched over a tiny sink- while said boy stared unabashedly- was extremely awkward.

 

Kurt blushed furiously as he caught David looking. David blushed too, but he also had a decidedly predatory look in his eyes.

 

“It’s my mess- let me take care of it.”

 

David grabbed Kurt by the hips and spun him around. He sunk to his knees, gently batted Kurt’s hands out of the way, and began lapping at his thighs.

 

Kurt’s hands flew up to cover his face- too mortified and too aroused to watch. But he could still hear the wet sound of David’s tongue eagerly licking between his thighs. It felt so good, yet so frustratingly not quite good enough- moving closer and closer to where Kurt wanted David’s mouth, but never arriving.

 

David hummed and grunted with satisfaction- sounding exactly like Finn when he was elbows deep in a supersized platter of nachos- he could feel David’s warm hands kneading contentedly at his ass, pulling him closer.

 

Kurt peeked between his fingers and felt his heart clench at the unexpected adorableness of David Karofsky- doing one of the filthiest things Kurt had ever seen- yet looking for all the world like a happy baby-kitten.

 

He reached down to pet his head, and discovered that David’s unstyled hair was also kitten soft.

 

David looked up at him and smiled, leaning his head into Kurt’s touch. Kurt smiled back like an idiot- weird, tiny teeth showing and everything.

 

David beamed up at him- but he was also licking his lips even more than usual- and not in any kind of a sexy way.

 

“It’s that lotion, isn’t it?”

 

“No, it’s fine… Ok- my tongue is getting numb and my lips are kinda burning- but this is totally worth it.”

 

Kurt snorted and pulled at David’s shoulders.

 

“Stop it- rinse your mouth out. I do _not_ want to explain this to Poison Control.”

 

David reluctantly got up, but refused to relinquish his grip on Kurt’s ass. He sat down on the closed toilet lid and pulled Kurt into his lap.

 

They sat there, entwined, but too shy to talk, until the motion-sensor light turned off with an audible click.

 

That had them jumping up and, after waving their hands furiously till the light came back on, scrambling into their clothes. David was ready much sooner than Kurt, who had to at least try to do something about his wrecked hair.

 

David’s eyes widened when the array of styling products and travel dryer came out of Kurt’s bag.

 

“Uh, I gotta go. See you, Fanc-um, Kurt.” He patted Kurt’s shoulder awkwardly and practically threw himself out the door.

 

Kurt was frozen in shock for several horrible seconds. Then the door handle rattled and a loud pounding came from the other side of the recently slammed door.

 

Kurt wrenched it open, eyes narrowed to deadly slits.

 

“Forget your club, Clan of the Cave Bear?”

 

David pushed back into the bathroom, grabbed Kurt’s face and kissed him thoroughly.

 

“Can I see you again tomorrow?”

 

Kurt nodded, brushing his lips up and down over David’s.

 

“Cool, thanks.”

 

David stepped back, eyes shifting around nervously as he opened the door again, even though the hallway was totally empty. He looked back at Kurt and his eyes did that softening thing that Kurt was beginning to think of as _his_ look.

 

“Tomorrow, after class, remember. Wait for me here, ok?

 

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings this chapter- bathroom sex, intercrural sex, fingering, nipple-play, come-tasting, manhandling, lotion used as inadequate and quickly abandoned lube.


	10. Chapter 10

Was that… was that Justin Bieber? Or rather several Justin Biebers… Bieberi? Kurt honestly thought that he was hallucinating them for a minute- after all he had _definitely_ lost his grip on reality.

 

It was a good thing everyone else in glee club was already bat-shit crazy or they might have noticed that he was floating around in a sex-drunk haze- smiling vaguely, without actually acknowledging anything they said.

 

Something, something about sweaters, and Santana trying to steal all the boyfriends, and possibly Coach Sylvester tried to murder someone in the stairwell? Kurt didn’t know- he and David had been pretty much continuously joined at the dick for the last week and a half.

 

Every second that they were alone David’s hands were fused to Kurt’s ass and Kurt’s lips were latched onto David’s neck, and they were thrusting and thrusting and thrusting against each other.

 

When they weren’t alone Kurt would look across the cafeteria- to where David was laughing with his disgusting friends- laughing, in fact, with his mouth wide open whilst simultaneously shoving a greasy, seven-layer burrito down his throat- and wonder what the hell he was thinking.

 

But then David would glance back at him and instantly start to smolder, and Kurt just couldn’t help it- he saw the taco sauce running down the other boy’s chin, and he should be grossed out- and yet they were eye-fucking.

 

And ten minutes later they would sneak into the utility closet and David’s greasy fingers would be shoved down the back of Kurt’s pants, rubbing at his hole, while Kurt moaned and sucked on David’s hot-sauce coated tongue until both of their mouths were burning.

 

Last Thursday Kurt had come in his most expensive jeans from watching David suck an entire corn dog right off the stick.

 

He kept planning to have a real conversation and define what exactly this was- but he just never wanted to waste a single moment that could be spent instead with David on top of him, grinding him into the mattress in slow, sanity-robbing circles.

 

And he knew David must care about him because- yes, indeed- the other boys were actually cosplaying as Justin Bieber- and David hadn’t run from the glee club, screaming.

 

He was sitting in the row right behind Kurt in the auditorium, calmly watching this abomination (was Puck actually wearing a hairpiece?)- one arm slung oh-so-casually over the back of Kurt’s chair, stealthily breathing moist puffs of air on the back of Kurt’s neck and working his hidden lower hand through the gap between the back and the seat of Kurt’s chair to grope his ass.

 

Thinking about how happy and carefree David had looked during lunchtime- while thrashing around on the floor with Azimio, punching each other in the nuts and trying to rub Doritos dust in each other’s hair- Kurt felt oddly protective.

 

He didn’t want to be the thing that came between David and his friends- objectively terrible though they might be. And he was in no hurry for David to learn what Kurt had known since the fourth grade- what it felt like when every single person in your life suddenly started looking at you like you had an infectious disease.

 

When the football team cornered David to hassle him- wanting to know why on earth he would join ‘Homo-Explosion’ full time- Kurt was even thankful that Sam was there to dump all of his Bieber-fever-gotten panties into David’s hand as a patent excuse.

 

Of course Kurt made him scrub that hand with three different kinds of disinfectant before it came anywhere near Kurt’s ass again.

 

But that night- Kurt’s dad and Carole out of town on one of the mini-trips they’d decided to break their honeymoon into and Finn in the soundproofed basement with his drum kit (and his porn-virus-riddled laptop that Kurt was pretending not to know about until he needed leverage for something)- he straddled David’s thick waist and let him fuck three of his also very thick fingers into Kurt’s ass, bouncing on them while stripping his cock, until he came all over David’s stomach and collapsed in a boneless heap on top of him.

 

David wrapped a reassuring arm around Kurt’s back to keep him steady and kept right on mercilessly finger-fucking him into sleepy oblivion-not even stopping when his own cock spurted in the crease of Kurt’s hip.

 

As Kurt snuggled down into David’s fuzzy chest- consciousness slipping away- he swore he felt a kiss brush over his forehead along with a murmured “’Night, sweetheart-” David’s tender tone somewhat at odds with his lasciviously pumping fingers.

 

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild warnings for fingering, homophobia, teenage boys being gross, and a collection of used panties- as in canon. This chapter takes place during Comeback, which I found to be a particularly unmemorable episode.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for a wide variety of things in the end notes

 

Sartre was right- hell was other people. Hell was being trapped in a basement with other (horrifically drunk and straight) people, most of whom were making out with each other with gruesome gusto- while you were stone cold sober, because you were trying to prove a point to someone, somewhere, about something you couldn’t really remember anymore.

 

Maybe Kurt had been full of noble, self-sacrificing determination to preserve David’s reputation last week; but it was harder to feel charitable when Santana Lopez had her harpy talons buried in David’s hair, and her slimy, silicone-filled lips all over his face.

 

“Ohh-kayyy!” Kurt gritted out, clapping his hands. “Wasn’t that special? But I think it’s someone else’s turn now, so Santana should go back to her spot, right?”

 

He tried to edge between them and get the bottle spinning again, but Santana shoved him off and crawled onto David’s lap.

 

“C’mere, Donkey Kong, Ize gon’ climb you like a tree,” she slurred.

 

Kurt watched them roll around on the hideous shag carpet- sure David was trying to fend her off, but he wasn’t trying hard enough- there was a perfectly good bottle just lying there that he could have used to bludgeon her.

 

What was wrong with Kurt, he had never believed in violence- he needed to calm down.

 

So he took a shot. And three more shots. And then- whoopsies- Rachel was stumbling towards the karaoke machine in her vomit-colored nightgown-dress-thing, and she had to be stopped! Many a cow-eyed look had passed between her and Finn tonight, and Kurt was _not_ sitting through any Celine Dion ballads.

 

Kurt riffled through the Berrys’s sadly dated song catalog. He wanted to select a perfectly pointed poison-tongued putdown of a… synonym for song that started with a p- but his vision was swimming slightly, and Rachel kept distracting him by clutching his arm and jumping up and down- so he picked the first thing that looked thematically appropriate, even though he only knew what a Juliana Hatfield was because she was on the [cover](http://coolspotters.com/files/photos/326875/sassy-gallery.jpg?1357480814) of one of his prized vintage Sassys.

 

Rachel didn’t let her own unfamiliarity with the song stop her from grabbing the other microphone.

 

[He’s a movie star](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jVYZCc63UpA)

Only drives rented cars

Met him in a bar

Said I know who you are

 

He flicked his eyes pointedly at David, wondering if he would look freaked out. He _did_ look freaked out, but mostly because Santana was simultaneously crying and trying to stick her tongue down his throat. Kurt’s eyes narrowed. He grabbed Rachel and tried to grind their hips together suggestively, but she was still really focused on jumping up and down.

 

Took him to my party

As the games were starting

Bottle’s on the ground

Are you ready now?

 

When it comes to me

I’m gonna be ready

It’s my turn in a minute

Gonna put my message in it

 

David finally managed to scramble out from under Santana. Kurt felt the tightness he hadn’t even been aware of in his chest relax as he watched the other boy scrub at his mouth and take a long, grimacing pull at his wine cooler. He twirled Rachel playfully as he leaned forward and practically cooed into the microphone-

 

Five minutes in the closet with you-

Oh-oh, Five minutes in the closet with you-

 

Now David was leaning forward too, bottle dangling forgotten from his fingers, trickling onto the carpet, his eyes hungrily pinned to Kurt’s. Kurt suddenly felt much more magnanimous, so he let Rachel take the first half of the next verse. He sang the second half with a wry half-smile, just for David-

 

I am not afraid, I can hardly wait

Truth or dare, I don’t care

Tell the truth, I dare you

 

He dared David with his eyes, feeling a rush of power as the other boy drifted closer and closer to the stage, as if hypnotized by Kurt’s voice.

 

Do you feel it too

What I feel for you?

If it was just us

Would you do what I do?

 

Kurt really felt like it was just them, alone together, even with the sound of half of the room drunkenly joining in as he launched into the “doo-doo-doo-doos.”

 

He spun Rachel again as she warbled inappropriately loudly yet still somehow on key- despite her obvious intoxication- damn her impeccable vocal training.

 

Everybody’s watching, everybody’s looking

She is such a sucker

He don’t wanna fuck her

 

He spared a malicious glance for Santana. She had just been rebuffed by Finn, who was captivated by Rachel. She was twirling so fast that her pukey dress was flying up to reveal several inches of shin now- truly a seduction for the ages. But Kurt forgot all about their strange and disturbing hetero mating habits as he watched the tip of David’s tongue flicker out over his lips.

 

He is gonna kiss me

If he doesn’t miss me

I am ready for it now

Already on the ground

 

He braced himself on the microphone stand and leaned down over the edge of the stage, licking his own lips-

 

Five minutes in the closet with you

Oh-oh-oh-

 

He crooned softly to David, now standing directly in front of the stage. He angled his head down- David angled his head up-

 

Five minutes

IN THE CLOSET WITH YOU!

 

Rachel blared in his ear as she jumped up without warning and threw her arms around Kurt’s neck. He staggered under the unexpected weight as she tightened her arms and tried to make him twirl with her.

 

“Everybody sing!” She crowed.

 

All the other girls (that hadn’t passed out yet) swarmed the stage, knocking David out of the way. They grabbed Kurt by the wrists and forced him to spin with them as they all belted out the song outro- not even slightly in time with each other.

 

Spin it round again!

Spin it round again!

SPIn iT ROUnd aGAI-

 

Lauren spun Rachel so hard that her feet left the ground- unfortunately Rachel let go just as she really got some air under her and went flying off the stage like a Beyblade battle top (Kurt may have loved his pink Power Ranger the best- but that didn’t mean he hadn’t hit his dad up for every toy that had a national commercial, back in the day) and crashed right into David- who crashed into Puck- who crashed into Finn.

 

Rather than helping- Sam, Mike and Lauren (who’s fault this all was) all yelled “Dogpile!” and jumped on top of them.

 

Kurt watched, aghast, as everyone else giggled and dived off the stage onto the pile. The basement floor was a seething mass of drunken, handsy, heterosexual hormones. David fought his way to the surface- clearly traumatized and splashed with half a dozen spilled drinks.

 

He chivalrously extracted Rachel from the bottom of the pile and plopped her down safely on a couch. She bounced on the couch like a trampoline, giggling madly, and launched herself right back in.

 

David shot a helpless look at Kurt across the impenetrable sea of breeders. Kurt cocked his head towards the door in the corner and started inching his way gingerly along the wall.

 

“You’re right, Rachel,” he announced loudly over Rachel’s utterly oblivious squeals, “Those stains are going to set in- I guess I’ll have to take Karofsky to the laundry room.”

 

The laundry room was more of a laundry nook, and there was barely a foot of space between the machines and the door- but there was a door- and that door had a lock- so it was basically paradise.

 

The second Kurt got them both squeezed in and the door locked behind them, David grabbed his face and kissed him till their mouths tasted like a mix of Boone’s Strawberry Hill and Kurt’s far classier choice of Sour Apple Pucker. Kurt leaned into the kiss for a minute, humming with satisfaction, before pushing David away to arms’ length and pulling at his shirt.

 

“No, seriously, the stains will set. Take it off.”

 

David made a show of slowly pulling up his shirt with an exaggerated wink. Kurt rolled his eyes, but his hands were twitching to run through David’s chest hair as soon as it was revealed. David crowded Kurt against the washer- reaching a beefy arm behind Kurt’s head for the detergent on the shelf.

 

“I think some got on you too, Fancy.”

 

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” Kurt breathed as he allowed David to unbutton his pristine, perfectly dry (not to mention dry clean only) shirt.

 

David slid his finger under the bondage strap running across Kurt’s chest and pulled it back, letting it snap gently.

 

“How do you get this Nazi sex-sash thing off?”

 

Kurt tried to unbuckle it, but David brushed his hands out of the way and insisted on doing it himself- even though it took three times as long (that also might have been because he kept pausing to press open-mouthed kisses to Kurt’s collarbone).

 

Once David managed to get Kurt’s shirt and all of its accompanying hardware off, he wadded it up and tossed it unceremoniously to the floor.

 

“David don’t- it’s dirty!”

 

“You’re dirty and so are your pants.” David muttered with questionable logic, yet admirable determination; then he hoisted Kurt onto the dryer and pulled his pants off before Kurt could think of a comeback.

 

David’s pants disappeared with similar speed, and then they were wrapped around each other, skin to skin, and the few days between now and the last time that they had been together like this seemed like a tedious and inconsequential dream, that Kurt resented having had to live through.

 

He hooked his ankles around David’s ass and pulled him closer, rolling his hips and panting against David’s mouth between their slow, wet kisses.

 

“Jesus, Fancy!” David whispered as he cradled Kurt’s head against the crook of his neck with one hand and worked the other between their sweat-soaked bodies to fist their erections together. “You make me so crazy- grinding up on that Berry chick all night and wiggling dat ass around in front of everyone- you trying to make me lose my mind?”

 

“Ah! David- harder!” Kurt thrust up into David’s grip and grabbed eager handfuls of his ass, trying to urge him on. “You can’t- fuck, right there- you can’t be mad at me; I’m mad at you! You were the one tongue-wrestling with Santana!”

 

David snorted as he dropped his hand down to squeeze Kurt’s balls. “Really? You were jealous of Ho-pez? That was fucking the worst. No, seriously, she smells like nasty perfume- I was about to hurl right on her creepy, plastic Barbie boobs.”

 

“Don’t be mean.” Kurt smugged (thinking mean things about Santana’s enhancements was nowhere near as bad as actually saying them- his silence was a sign of virtue and had very little to do with his healthy fear of Santana). “And there’s nothing wrong with a subtle and well-chosen fragrance- I have some delicious French colognes.”

 

David groaned and shook his head.

 

“Please don’t, dude.” He snuffled against Kurt’s neck. “Can’t smell better than this, anyway. I hate when people cover everything in a bunch of overcomplicated, unnecessary shit- nasty air-fresheners everywhere, fucking burning my nose, and like, drowning perfectly good steaks in ten kinds of stupid sauces.”

 

“Philistine.” Kurt pinched David’s ass reprovingly, even as he tilted his chin up so that David could nuzzle more of his neck. “I suppose you’d rather I used Walmart soap instead of my Paul Mitchell shampoo, and walked around in a plain grey sweat-suit.”

 

“No, no, no,” David kissed up Kurt’s neck, pumping their cocks together harder. “I love your shiny Disney prince hair- and I love your complicated, unnecessary _clothes_ \- s’like opening Christmas presents when I get to rip them off you.”

 

Kurt laughed. “You prefer the smell of B.O. to cologne and you enjoy mistreating delicate, irreplaceable designer clothing- how are you my boyfriend?”

 

David froze above him.

 

“Is that what I am?” he asked in a too casual voice, face still turned into Kurt’s neck.

 

Kurt’s stomach lurched sickeningly. Their naked bodies couldn’t have been more entwined- Kurt’s limbs wrapped tight around David, and David’s hand wrapping their cocks even tighter together- and yet he had no idea what the other boy was thinking.

 

“Y-yes? If you want to be. I thought you… do you like me? Because I, um, IreallylikeyoualotIguessbutif-“

 

David cut him off with a deep, fervent kiss. He pulled back, stroking Kurt’s neck, and his eyes were shining and he was smiling so, so wide- Kurt had to put his hands on David’s cheeks, in case he smiled too wide and hurt himself.

 

“You really like me?” David asked, turning his face to kiss Kurt’s palm.

 

Kurt nodded, grinning back and blushing furiously. David whooped and kissed him again.

 

“Yeah, I wanna be your boyfriend! I’ve liked you for so long, Kurt- so long. I think I-“ David broke off abruptly and his eyes filled with tears.

 

“David,” Kurt leaned up and kissed a tear off of David’s face. “Shh, don’t cry, what’s wrong?”

 

“I can’t. I wanna be with you so bad, but I can’t tell anyone about us, Fancy. I won’t- I won’t ever be able to play football anywhere- and all of my friends will think I was creeping on them- and my mom,” he stifled a sob, “My mom grew up in Russia and over there they don’t… she’ll just never, ever understand.”

 

“David, honey, I knew all of this already- it’s ok.”

 

“It’s not ok! You want more than a pathetic closet-case, I know you do- and you _deserve_ more.”

 

“You’re right- this isn’t what I really want.” Kurt pressed David’s cheeks before he could pull away and gave him another soft kiss. “It’s not what I want because more than anything, I want you to be happy, David, and I know that you never will be while you have to hide who you really are. But I also want you to be safe. And I want you to get to do things when they’re right for _you_ , in your own time. Except that one thing you were doing just now-“

 

Kurt dragged his nails over the back of David’s neck as he thrust his neglected cock up into David’s slackened grip-

 

“Imma need you to finish that, right _now_.”

 

David growled and pushed Kurt down to lay across the dryer. He leaned over him, his heavy weight pinning Kurt down against the cold metal, and fiddled with the controls. Kurt gasped as the machine came to life- vibrating hard beneath them. David covered him, pressing him into the vibrations as he sucked at Kurt’s collarbone and fucked his erection against Kurt’s, squeezing both cocks in his grip with renewed purpose.

 

-

 

The rest of that night in the cramped, mildewy laundry nook was absolutely beautiful.

 

-

 

The next morning- which began at 7 am when Kurt’s dad woke him up for soufflé day and realized pretty immediately that Kurt was hungover- was not so beautiful.

 

-

 

And then the afternoon got _really_ ugly.

 

He was still smarting from his dad’s lecture- the worst part had been the way he’d asked if anyone had ‘taken advantage’ of Kurt- when if Finn had gotten caught, he was pretty sure it would have been worded the other way round- so he was in no mood to be dragged out to the Lima Bean by Mercedes and Britt to rehash the party.

 

He probably shouldn’t have let Britt ‘freshen’ his coffee from her flask but dammit, his head was killing him, and that would show his dad or something (darn, now he had to hide from his dad even longer when he snuck back home- as far as Burt knew, Kurt was cleaning out the toolshed right now).

 

Brittany was going on and on about Santana- apparently she’d finished the night making out with Brittany, in what Kurt assumed was a last, drunken and desperate bid for male attention. Mercedes traded grossed out looks with him as Brittany went into excruciating detail. Somehow it made him even more nauseous when she switched over to fairytale metaphors-

 

Blah, blah- Santana talked like a mean lizard, but sometimes she acted like a nice, magical unicorn- no, bicorn. Britt was pretty sure Santana’s abuela was a witch- maybe she had turned Santana into a lizard, then Brittany could break the spell with a kiss and they could be bicorns together and trample Santana’s abuela under their glittery hooves- and Artie could be a centaur, or maybe a transformer-

 

Kurt rolled his eyes and patted her hand.

 

“Sweetie, I think you mean bisexual, not bicorn. But it doesn’t really matter, because bisexuals are about as real as magic horses that fart rainbows. Bisexual is just a convenient term that gay boys use when they force themselves to make out with girls, because they’re still hoping they can force themselves to change, and that straight girls use when they’re really, really hungry for attention.”

 

Brittany pulled her hand away and stood up.

 

“I don’t make out so other people can watch me. I only kiss people I like, because _I_ like it. I liked kissing you, when we out last year, and I thought that you liked me- but maybe you were just using me. You’re being mean, Kurt. You’re a bully, and I’m going to tell Santana, and she’s going to cut you with her vicious, vicious words. Or with razors. Her hair is made of razors.”

 

She flounced out.

 

Mercedes looked away and mumbled when Kurt tried to get her to agree that Brittany had ridiculously over-reacted, and then she didn’t even have any opinions about whether the January or February Vogue cover was better. He might as well have been getting a head start on the toolshed.

 

He took another slug of schnapps-laced coffee.

 

-

 

The toolshed was full of daddy longlegs and the previous owner’s sticky Playboys, and Santana kept texting him threats in Spanglish that he was too afraid to plug into Google Translate. He was in there the rest of the weekend, mucking out filth, while Finn lazed around watching cartoons- his own drinking undetected because he always spent the entire weekend lying on the floor in front of the tv, unless Carole poked him with a broom.

 

At least he let Kurt have sips from his stealthy bottle of purple Gatorade laced with gin and Robitussin.

 

-

 

Except for his secret boyfriend (Kurt had a _boyfriend!!!_ ) everything continued to be extremely annoying. Really, Kurt had no choice but to keep drinking all week, along with the rest of the New Directions- until the Tik And Also Tok Pukestravaganza of 2011.

 

After which Kurt was pretty sure he was never going to be able to keep alcohol (or Kool Aid or Oreos or cough syrup) down again, so- lesson learned?

 

-

 

“Gross!” Kurt giggled as David tried to kiss him- he had just snuck into Kurt’s stall- they were the last two left in the showers after the disastrous assembly- “David Karofsky hates cologne but is fine with puke-breath- what a pervert!”

 

“Like you can talk, Hummel. The other night you jizzed yourself while you stuck your face in my armpit!”

 

-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for underage drinking, unwanted kissing and groping in the context of a party game, sexual activity between Kurt and Dave while they are both intoxicated (they are both enthusiastic, neither of them regrets it later), Biphobia and Bi-Erasure (Kurt), Misogyny and Body-Shaming (Kurt and David), Internalized Homophobia (David), Effemiphobia (Burt), and Vomit.
> 
> The song Spin the Bottle as performed by the Juliana Hatfield Three from their 1993 album, Become What You Are- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jVYZCc63UpA
> 
> This chapter takes place during the episode Blame It On The Alcohol in the original timeline.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mild warnings in the end notes-

 

All of Ms. Holliday’s sex talk was making Kurt uncomfortable. He really, really, _really_ enjoyed everything he got up to with David- but it all felt too precious, too fragile to talk about. Even if he had been at liberty to gossip with his friends, he didn’t think that he would’ve been able or willing to describe the earth-shattering emotions that came hand-in-hand with even the dirtiest of acts when they were between David and him.

 

Not that they’d done _it_ yet. It seemed a little arbitrary when they spent so much time with their mouths around and fingers inside of each other- but penetrative sex was a big, scary deal in Kurt’s mind- the point of no return.

 

-

 

Kurt came home after school, walked into the kitchen to get a drink, and suddenly wished for death. His dad was sitting at the table with a Walgreen’s bag in front of him.

 

The other day Kurt had finally nerved himself up to buy personal lubricant- using one of the self-checkout kiosks. At the time he’d been quite angry that the condoms were kept behind the counter- now he was very, very grateful that this wasn’t about to be even more mortifying.

 

-

 

Kurt buried his face in his hands and shrieked, shuddering with residual disgust. Far from being sympathetic, David rolled around on his bed, laughing uproariously, and eagerly pointing out the creepiest illustrations in the pamphlets that Kurt’s dad had forced on him.

 

“Get that away from me- I never want to look at it again! This is bullying! Ugh- and then, _then_ he said I should keep the lube, but if I wanted to experiment with toys I had to ask him to order them off the internet for me- because he doesn’t want me experimenting with… household objects.”

 

“What?!”

 

“He made me read a Savage Love column about some kid who waited till his family was asleep, then taped a plastic bag around the handle of a toilet plunger.”

 

David made a very amusing horrified face but, when he caught Kurt peeking through his fingers, he rallied with a suggestive smirk.

 

“You should ask him to buy you a Twilight dildo- they come in sparkly.”

 

“How dare you- you know that I’m Team Jacob!”

 

“Do those ones come with a kno-“

 

“Stop! Being! So! _Filthy_!” Kurt launched himself across the bed and grabbed David’s pillow, punctuating each word with an attempted blow to the other boy’s head. David blocked his attacks with infuriating ease- then he grabbed Kurt’s hips, flipping him suddenly onto his back, and pinned him to the bed.

 

Kurt glared up at him with his best bitch face and bucked his hips- but he also spread his legs wide and tightened his hands on David’s waist so he could buck against him just right. David obliged him and ground him against the mattress with his hard bulge.

 

“Your dad made you a nice, generous offer and you’re not gonna take him up on it? Y’know, Fancy, if you’re not mature enough to talk about it- you probably shouldn’t be-“ he pumped down fast and hard “- _doing_ it.”

 

David waggled his eyebrows at his lame innuendo and made to roll off of Kurt. Kurt grabbed him by his cock-teasing ass and dug his nails in.

 

“Really? You wanna talk mature?” Kurt glanced up, over David’s shoulder. “I’m not the one with my toy planes still hanging over my bed- does your desk convert to a Thomas train table?”

 

“Shut up, those are highly collectible limited-edition scale model replicas.”

 

Kurt rolled his eyes and blew a raspberry with his tongue. David retaliated by sucking on Kurt’s tongue before he could retract it- and then they both got distracted for a while.

 

Eventually David had to breathe and he dragged his mouth away. His teasing mood had passed and he stared down at Kurt with darkened eyes, tracing his finger over Kurt’s reddened and swollen bottom lip.

 

“I’m sorry you’re dad made you feel weird, sweetheart? Was it really bad?”

 

“He was pretty decent about it, I guess. He said some nice stuff towards the end… He told me that I matter.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“He meant that I shouldn’t throw myself away on the first random person that will have me, I think. That my first time should be with someone I really care about and trust, and think is worth it.”

 

David gave him a sad smile and rolled away before Kurt could stop him this time. He sat on the edge of the bed, back turned towards Kurt and shoulders hunched.

 

“Your dad sounds awesome. He’s right- you should wait for the right person. You deserve a perfect first time.”

 

Kurt sat up and pressed his face against David’s back- he felt David stiffen against his cheek, but make no attempt to shake Kurt off.

 

“Thank you for understanding.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“So your parents are in Columbus, right?”

 

“Um, yeah?”

 

Kurt leaned up and nuzzled the back of David’s neck. David sucked in a gasp as Kurt’s cold nose brushed against the tiny hairs on his nape.

 

“And you showered before I came over? Thoroughly?”

 

“Yeah, I- what?”

 

Kurt’s arms slid around his boyfriend’s waist, skimming under his shirt to caress his warm, fuzzy belly and propping his chin over David’s shoulder to murmur in his ear-

 

“Reach into the middle pocket of my bag for me.”

 

“Too lazy to get off your cute little ass, yourself, your highness?” David scoffed, but Kurt could feel him trembling in his arms as he leaned over and dug through the messenger bag.

 

“This what you… Kurt?”

 

“I hope you read those pamphlets carefully,” Kurt whispered as he plucked the now infamous bottle of lube from David’s nerveless fingers.

 

David shot up off the bed and turned to face him.

 

“Are you fucking with me?”

 

Kurt jumped up too and cradled David’s cheek.

 

“No, honey, no- I mean it- I want it to be you. Of course I want it to be you!”

 

“But didn’t you just say you wanted your first to be special? Don’t you want, like, flowers and candles and, I don’t know, a string quartet?”

 

“Frankly that all sound rather cliché and heteronormative, and even if I did it’s a little too late. I consider what we did after the game, in the back of the Navigator, our first time. Which was also pretty cliché- but at least it’s a good ol’ traditional, American cliché- practically our patriotic duty, really. This will just be our first time… doing this particular thing.” Kurt narrowed his eyes. “This is your first time, right? Did Santana or anyone ever-“

 

“Ew, no! All I’ve ever done with girls is kiss her at that party, and kiss Brittany Pierce one time, like a year ago.”

 

Kurt searched David’s gaze for the tiniest flicker.

 

“What about that thing you said about nipples, that time?”

 

“That was just from shit I heard other guys talking about. I never- with a girl. I never want to _anything_ with anyone except _you_ , Kurt”

 

Kurt rose up on his toes and kissed David tenderly.

 

“See, that sounds pretty special and perfect to me.” He tugged lightly at the hem of David’s shirt. “Now?” he breathed against David’s wet lips.

 

David nodded, his breath hitching, and lifted his arms up, allowing Kurt to peel his shirt off.

 

-

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings this chapter- Kurt is humiliated when his dad finds his lube and is forced to have an embarrassing but well-intentioned sex talk, David pokes fun at Kurt's embarrassment, ridiculing of sex toys and an all-too-real Savage Love story about using inappropriate objects as sex toys, Mild suspicion and jealousy (Kurt), Mild female body-shaming (David).
> 
> This chapter takes place during the Episode Sexy in the original timeline.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings in the end notes-

 

David unbuttoned Kurt’s dress shirt with a speed born of considerable practice. He placed a hot, open-mouthed kiss on Kurt’s collarbone as he slid the shirt off the other boy’s shoulders.

 

Kurt brushed his fingers down the trail of hair leading under David’s bellybutton and popped open the button of his jeans. The tip of David’s cock poked over the top of the loosened fly- already standing hard to attention and straining to escape.

 

Kurt’s burgeoning erection twitched sympathetically, trapped in his own far more constraining jeans. He grabbed David’s wrist and forcefully pulled his hand down where he wanted it.

 

David smirked and squeezed Kurt’s cock through his evil, crotch- asphyxiating jeans.

 

Kurt hissed- the pressure of David’s big hand was almost too much, yet also not enough.

 

“Get them off already!”

“S’not my fault you wear stupid tight pants, baby. You see those studies about how these things can like, fuck with your health or lower your sperm count?”

 

“If you don’t help me out of these jeans- which are totally your fault, Mr. Ass-obsessed-creepy-staring-pervert- in the next three seconds, I’ll sperm count all over your face.”

 

“That sounds hot, maybe later. Just not near my eyes- shit burns.” David smoothly yanked Kurt’s pants open and pushed him backwards to flop onto the bed.

 

Not missing a beat, Kurt toed off his Italian leather loafers (this was a planned ambush, so no sexy yet complicated boots for once) and waved his feet in front of David’s face.

 

David scooped his hands under Kurt’s ass and peeled off the skinny jeans, automatically folding them and slinging them over the back of his desk chair. His eyes darkened as he saw that Kurt had further planned for this moment by going commando- and his pink erect cock was straining upwards, practically begging for attention.

 

David quickly kicked off his own pants and underwear and lowered his naked body over Kurt’s, balancing his weight on his forearms.

 

Kurt groped at David’s ass and urged him closer. “I want to feel _all_ of you.”

 

“I’ll squish you.”

 

“No you won’t. Give it to me, _please_.”

 

David looked nervous, but slowly relaxed his forearms.

 

Kurt stretched and wriggled deliciously as the full weight of the much bigger boy pressed him into the bed. He loved this, loved feeling totally surrounded and pinned beneath David’s immovable bulk.

 

They set to work grinding against each other- kissing, licking and biting with their mouths, rolling their hips, stroking and squeezing each other with well-practiced efficiency. Kurt drew his knees up on either side of David’s waist and David reached back for the lube, squirting a generous amount in both of their hands. Kurt grabbed their shafts in his slicked-up palm and pumped them together.

 

They gasped simultaneously and leered at each other- lube was an immediate improvement on cheap lotion.

 

David slid a hand under Kurt’s ass and pressed a finger to his hole- he was shocked when the tip slid right in up to the second knuckle.

 

“Shit, baby! I slipped, sorry! Did I hurt you?”

 

“Keep going. Lube. Is. Awesome. Totally worth the embarrassment. I’m going back tomorrow and buying the giant economy-size tub.”

 

Kurt wiggled his ass impatiently, trying to push himself down onto David’s finger. David paid him back with a sharp thrust, and buried his finger up to the third knuckle.

 

David attacked Kurt’s hole with a will- making Kurt shudder and hiss and fist their cocks together almost painfully in response- which only made David grit his teeth and twist his fingers in and out of Kurt all the harder. Before they knew it, three of David’s thick, callused fingers were fucking easily into Kurt’s slicked and stretched hole, and they were past the point of all their previous experience together.

 

Kurt nodded up at David. Nervously, David lifted up and slid his cock out of Kurt’s grip. Kurt squeezed more lube down the length of it with shaky fingers. They both blushed furiously as David lined himself up- the blunt tip of his cock bumping gently against Kurt’s rim.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

In answer Kurt narrowed his eyes, angled his hips down, and squeezed- tightening his ring muscles around David’s cock-head.

 

David’s eyes went dangerously predatory. “Ok then-“

 

“Wait!” Kurt brought his clean hand up to David’s face and tenderly stroked one of his unfairly perfect eyebrows. “Kiss me. And do it in one steady stroke- I feel like that’ll end up hurting less than if you keep starting and stopping.”

 

He slid his hand around David’s neck and pulled his head down. His eyes closed as their lips met in a tender kiss.

 

David’s strong hands tightened under Kurt’s ass, spreading his cheeks and holding him steady- the bulbous tip that had been resting against Kurt’s rim pushed through the reluctant ring of muscle- slowly at first, but then all at once it breached the resistance, and inch after inch of David’s suddenly massive-seeming cock punched into Kurt, spreading him wider and spearing in deeper than seemed humanly possible.

 

“Ow, ow, ow! Shitfuckinggod _damn_!”

 

Panicked by Kurt’s outburst, David tried to pull out. Kurt hissed and dug his heels into the backs of David’s thighs.

 

“Ow, no, that’s worse! Stay still!”

 

David froze. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! This was a terrible idea, I knew I’d hurt you-“

 

Kurt slapped a hand over his mouth. “Relax. It’s not that bad, it just kinda… burns, I guess? Distract me while I get used to it.”

 

“Distract you how?” David mumbled around Kurt’s fingers.

 

Kurt flicked his eyes pointedly down to his flagging erection. David squeezed his hand between their bellies and went to work, jacking Kurt’s shaft with a slight twisting motion over the tip on each upstroke- the way he knew Kurt liked it.

 

Kurt focused on trying to control his breathing. David’s cock felt so huge and invasive and _huge_ inside him. He could feel his entire body throbbing around it, muscles he had never been aware of before pulsing and straining against the intrusion, blood rushing and thrumming in his veins.

 

“I can feel your pulse beating against my dick.” David whispered against Kurt’s neck.

 

Kurt concentrated and squeezed all those unfamiliar muscles.

 

“Jesus!” David inadvertently tightened his grip around Kurt’s shaft.

 

Without thinking, Kurt thrust up into David’s grip, pulling up slightly off David’s cock with the motion. He squeaked and dropped back down, impaling himself again. He squeaked louder at the feeling of David’s thick pole dragging against his inner walls.

 

David looked worried again, but Kurt gripped his boyfriend’s impressive biceps for leverage and experimentally rolled his hips a few times, concentrating on the wet drag of David’s cock in and out of his entrance- the sensation as it rubbed against his rim a few centimeters at a time.

 

David whimpered and did his best to hold still and let Kurt lead, his biceps shaking under Kurt’s grip and his face buried helplessly to Kurt’s neck, peppering it with desperate kisses.

 

“Do it,” Kurt said, “Move.”

 

David gripped Kurt’s hip as he pulled partially out, then sank back forwards with a smooth, heavy thrust. Kurt’s eyes rolled back, he felt full all the way up to his throat. David did it again and again, pulling out further each time to plunge forward in long, endless strokes.

 

He kept jerking Kurt off with one hand, but used the other to push Kurt’s thigh up- spreading him wide so that he could watch his reddened cock sinking into Kurt’s pink hole. Mesmerized, he pumped harder and deeper, till his balls were slapping against Kurt’s rim with every thrust.

 

He kept pulling and twisting at Kurt’s erection with ruthless efficiency, eyes intent on where his cock was pounding into Kurt’s hole, pushing Kurt’s thighs wider and wider until the angle abruptly shifted and Kurt felt the tip of David’s cock slam dead to rights over what must have been his prostate.

 

Lights flashed behind his eyes and he came without warning-warm ropes of come spilling over David’s fist- his entire body convulsing and clenching around David’s cock, still buried up to the hilt in Kurt’s ass.

 

David growled and grabbed the base of his cock. He grit his teeth and watched Kurt’s spasming face avidly.

 

Kurt flopped bonelessly against the mattress, heart fluttering and nerve-endings fizzing. He took several deep shuddering breaths. Then he realized that David was smirking down at him, eyes glittering dangerously as his still rock hard cock shifted minutely inside Kurt’s ass.

 

When he saw that Kurt was back with him, David rolled his hips hard- making Kurt feel every inch of him- and cocked his eyebrow.

 

“Mmm. Sorry, caught my prostate by surprise. Your turn,” Kurt lazily flopped his legs wider apart, “Go ahead and ravish m-“

 

Before he could finish the sentence David threw Kurt’s boneless legs over his shoulders and slammed himself balls deep into Kurt’s hole. He reared back, his thick shaft making a wet, squelching noise as it pulled out, and slammed in again, even harder. And then he proceeded to fuck Kurt ruthlessly into the mattress.

 

His eyes were almost completely black as he bared his teeth and held Kurt down, practically bent in half, putting all of his considerable weight behind each thrust, as he fucked Kurt harder and harder and _harder_.

 

His dick kept jabbing against Kurt’s prostate, setting Kurt’s nerve-ends on fire. He tried to wriggle away, overstimulated, but David had no pity. He trapped Kurt’s ass in his big hands and forced him to take it, rooting around with his cock and watching Kurt’s reaction’s like a hawk until he was sure of the spot- and then he angled his cock precisely and drilled into Kurt with savage accuracy.

 

Kurt heard a high-pitched noise as his vision filled with white. Dimly he realized that the noise was coming from him- he was screaming faster and faster, in time with David’s thrusts, getting louder and shriller the harder he was fucked.

 

Neither of them had been terribly loud in their previous encounters- mostly grunters and sighers with occasional interjections- but now Kurt was keening at the top of his vocal range in a long, unbroken wail, and he had no control over it at all. David growled like an animal as he dug his teeth into the juncture of Kurt’s neck and hunched over him, plunging into him with wild, sloppy thrusts. The bed slammed loudly against the wall with the force of David’s pounding- he growled in time with the slams, jackhammering Kurt’s ass with pitiless, seemingly inhuman force.

 

Kurt thrashed his head around, still wailing, and sank his own teeth into David’s neck- and then they were an unbroken electrical circuit- screaming into each other’s necks, digging into each other’s flesh with teeth and nails, and David’s cock rooted so deep in Kurt’s ass, it felt like they were inextricably merged.

 

Kurt squeezed his channel and slammed down his hips with as much savagery as David slammed up- the base of his spine sparked and Kurt felt a stream of pure lightning shoot out of his aching, overworked cock. David roared and exploded inside him- Kurt could swear he actually felt David’s come blasting over his prostate with infuriating accuracy.

 

-

 

Kurt blearily focused his eyes. David was still suckling at his neck, grunting like a caveman, his heavy hips pinning Kurt down and grinding in irregular aftershocks as he squelched his still not completely softened penis in Kurt’s wet, exhausted, absolutely sopping and come-drenched ass.

 

Kurt threaded a hand through David’s sweaty hair and pulled his head up. He watched as David’s pupils contracted and the caveman on top of him turned back into his boyfriend. His boyfriend that was grinning down at him so soppily that Kurt had no choice but to grin back- weird teeth showing and all- and bump their noses together in a shamelessly cheesy Eskimo kiss.

 

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning this chapter for unprotected anal sex (Kurt and David assume that it is safe because they are each other's first partners- but they are idiot teenagers, please do not follow their example) manhandling, biting and generally rough (fully consensual) sex.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mild warnings in the end notes-

 

Later they tried it the other way. Kurt liked that too- the only problem was that he liked it too much and came embarrassingly early. He finished David off with his fingers and had no complaints- in fact David might have said some embarrassing things about Kurt’s piano training being obvious, because he played David’s ass like a master-yet Kurt privately felt sort of embarrassed about his stamina.

 

Kurt couldn’t help thinking of it as just a nice way to pass the time until his own ass had recovered enough to bottom again, because holy shit- David was some kind of sex prodigy. Seriously- that level of skill, stamina and precision could not be common in teenaged beginners- what if David realized that he was fucking at an Olympic level while Kurt was still on the bunny slope?

 

-

 

It was a good thing Kurt was receiving the most thorough fuckings in Ohio on the regular- otherwise he would have been a lot angrier about this asinine original song idea. And positively furious when Mr. Schuester and the other philistines in glee club claimed not to “get” the opening aria from his experimental opera, Waity Katie: [La Principessa di Party City](http://money.cnn.com/2011/04/14/smallbusiness/kate-middleton-party-pieces/).

 

At least he had a solo verse in Loser Like Me- even if he found the song as a whole crassly commercial and over-produced.

 

David always got kind of quiet and withdrawn when they rehearsed it (all two and a half times)- Kurt supposed he was uncomfortably reminded of his own time as a bully.

 

Which- he had apologized so sweetly- but David _had_ been practically the biggest bully at McKinley.

 

Still, Kurt made sure to kiss him with extra tenderness after practice, when David had a rather sad look in his eyes- even as he held Kurt up against the wall and bounced him up and down on his cock.

 

-

 

Kurt rolled his eyes as he surreptitiously brushed away a tear. He supposed that deep, deep down, in the blackened depths of his heart, he was genuinely moved by Rachel’s original ballad- despite her obnoxious bedazzled microphone- and, as long as he didn’t have to witness their sickening make-outs, he wanted her and Finn to be happy.

 

And judging from the moony look on Finn’s face as he straight-up eye-fucked her from the wings, they were about to get _very_ happy. On second thought- maybe _too_ happy! Finn was taking determined steps towards center stage- clearly about to violate Kurt’s eyes, and the entire Regionals audience’s, with some of that trademark sickening tongue-action.

 

Kurt shot a panicked look at David who correctly interpreted it (thank you secret relationship for really developing their vocabulary of meaningful looks) and placed a restraining hand on Finn’s shoulder.

 

Finn struggled, but David managed to hold him in the wings until after Rachel had wailed out the last note of her song and reluctantly dragged herself out of the spotlight for their final group number.

 

As the full ensemble flooded the stage Finn broke free, dragged her behind the curtain, and sucked half her face into his mouth- at least they were mostly offstage- allowing their by now drama-inured teammates to cover for them, as well as allowing the blessedly oblivious audience to keep its collective lunches down.

 

Just as well because the audience was eating up Loser Like Me with a spoon. The vaguely familiar petit boy in the front row was already mouthing along with the chorus and bouncing in his seat (although his hair remained curiously unmoved) as Kurt strutted downstage for his solo.

 

Push me up against the locker

And hey, all I do is shake it off

I’ll get you back when I’m your boss

 

Kurt brushed his hair back with a haughty flick of his wrist (because he didn’t buy his styling products at an old timey barbershop, and flexible hold was a thing that existed in the modern hair care world) and glanced to the side, smirking discreetly at David.

 

David had a weird, tight look on his face. He returned Kurt’s smile but it seemed strained.

 

Kurt’s energy dipped- he knew that the lyrics, particularly the bit about lockers, must bring up some shameful memories- but he had hoped his first boyfriend would be more enthusiastic about his first solo. He shifted his focus back to the audience- at least the world’s most junior executive, bless his tiny little blazer, clearly appreciated an awesome performance.

 

I’m not thinking ‘bout you haters

‘Cos hey, I could be a superstar

I’ll see you when you wash my car

 

Kurt threw in a fancy little trill off the end of “car” and [Skipper’s First Boyfriend](https://www.google.com/search?q=skipper%27s+first+boyfriend&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=vcIsVdz8DcyxggTOq4Ao&ved=0CC0QsAQ&biw=1366&bih=607#tbm=isch&q=scott+skipper%27s+boyfriend) stood up and wolf whistled. At the end of the number, the entire audience followed his example and gave them a standing ovation.

 

Kurt forgot his momentary irritation in the thrill of victory- especially when they were pronounced the winners and David pulled him close during the massive group hug and covertly stroked the back of Kurt’s neck, just inside his collar.

 

He leaned into David’s arm, casually draped over his shoulders, but all too soon it was removed in order for David to cup his hands around his mouth and yell at Finn and Rachel-

 

“Get a room!”

 

Finchel (Kurt’s portmanteau suggestion, Hurry, had been overruled) continued to reconcile vigorously and moistly- heedless of David’s increasingly obnoxious kissy faces and the loud retching noises of the majority of the New Directions.

 

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings this chapter- fingering, penetrative sex (unsafe unless mentioned otherwise), Kurt has brief feelings of sexual inadequacy, reference to past bullying, reference to closeted relationship, unkind descriptions of Finn and Rachel's kissing, and Blaine. 
> 
> From this point on the story will increasingly feature Blaine and a certain amount of Klaine. If you like Blaine- this is probably not a story for you. If you don't like Blaine- he will be portrayed as annoying in this story- but he will not develop into the abusive monster he became in later seasons.
> 
> This chapter takes place during the episode Original Song. Lyrics from Loser Like Me - written by Anders, Martin, Åström and Shellback- as performed in Original Song.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mild warnings in the end notes-

 

Kurt was the last person to leave the dressing room, as usual (everyone else was far too cavalier about the proper removal of their harsh, pore-clogging stage makeup- even Rachel’s après show regimen was barely 20 minutes long).

 

To his surprise, the blazer boy was waiting just outside, clutching a program- and he asked Kurt for his (very first!) autograph. Kurt was even more flattered when he realized that Blaine (as the boy introduced himself) had been the lead singer of the boys’ choir at Sectionals.

 

“Seriously, it was such a close competition- you guys were _so_ fun!”

 

“But we didn’t win.” Blaine grimaced.

 

“Still, lead singer when you’re only a sophomore, right? That’s quite an accomplishment!”

 

“I guess, but there aren’t really a lot of performance opportunities, since we didn’t advance to Regionals. The Warbler Council is pretty resistant to public events just because a few people complained about this amazing guerilla show I organized back in February. I guess Ohio just isn’t ready for someone on my level yet. Did the New Directions really star in a commercial?”

 

“It was just a local spot.” Kurt shrugged modestly. “Although- my solo at the National Cheerleading Championships did air- ah- nationally. But only on, like, ESPN2 or something.”

 

Kurt felt increasingly pleased with himself as Blaine gushed about his performance tin Loser Like Me, as well as his bravery, once Blaine realized that Kurt was openly gay at a public school. But then he felt horrible when Blaine went on to tell him about the terrible incident that had caused him to retreat to Dalton and its no-bullying policies.

 

“You’re not alone.” Kurt squeezed the shorter boy’s shoulder. “I’ll do anything I can help to help- even if you just need a shoulder to cry on- or some questionable advice from someone a whole school year older and not really wiser. In fact- what are you doing next Saturday? I know the cutest coffee place.”

 

Blaine reached up and squeezed the hand Kurt still had on his shoulder.

 

“You mean like a date?”

 

Kurt flushed and tried to pull his hand away as gently as possible.

 

“Oh… Um, I think you’re really cute, Blaine… but I also think that what you really need right now is a friend who understands what you’re going through. And I need to ask for your discretion here- because this isn’t my secret to share, and I can’t tell you who it is- but I already have a b-”

 

“Hey babe. You look cold, here.”

 

Kurt startled as David popped up behind him, seemingly out of nowhere, and suddenly enveloped him in the warm, heavy weight of his letterman jacket.

 

“David!” Kurt clutched at the collar of the jacket before it could slide off his shoulders. “Um, Blaine, this is David Karofsky. He’s, um…”

 

David stared at Blaine with a polite smile and narrowed, steely eyes. He turned to Kurt and made a show of adjusting the collar of the jacket around Kurt’s neck, then leaned in and planted a solid kiss on his lips.

 

“I’m his boyfriend. Nice to meet you, kid, but we gotta go. Berry will throw a fit if she sees us talking to the competition. Even if we beat you guys already.”

 

Kurt smiled brightly and tactfully ignored the stricken look on Blaine’s face.

 

“Yeah, she probably would- the little hypocrite. Sorry, we really do have to go- text me if you need to vent over a venti- ha, coffee humor! Byeee!”

 

Kurt waved goodbye as David practically herded him down the hall, one hand planted possessively on Kurt’s hip.

 

As soon as they turned a corner, to an empty stretch of hallway, David gently crowded Kurt against the wall and captured his mouth in a demanding kiss. He pressed closer and closer, kissing hungrily, until Kurt was gasping for breath. Even then, David didn’t retreat- he pressed their foreheads together and wrapped Kurt in a bear-hug, sliding his hands under his shirt to caress his back.

 

“So-” Kurt couldn’t ignore this kind of behavior- “Are you feeling a little jealous, David?”

 

“Yeah.” David panted, dropping his head into Kurt’s neck. “Sorry. Give me a minute.”

 

Kurt quietly carded his fingers through the soft curls at the nape of David’s neck while the other boy worked to control his agitated breathing.

 

“Sorry,” David repeated eventually, leaning back and giving Kurt a little more space, but still smoothing his hands over Kurt’s back. “It was just- he was obviously hitting on you, and his name is _Blaine_ , and he looks like the villain in a John Hughes movie.”

 

Kurt snorted. “He does not. He looks like a puppy. A tiny, clueless, sophomore puppy.”

 

“A puppy that tricks you into going to prom in an elaborate plot to get your ragtag team of underdogs disqualified from the skiing tournament- even though it’s your last chance to save the community center.”

 

“I would never join a skiing tournament to save the community center- obviously it would be a singing and/or breakdancing competition. And nobody Jesse-St-Jameses me- trust me, he’s harmless.”

 

David took a deep breath and nodded. “I do trust you, you know that, right? I know I freaked out on you a little just now- but that was my bullshit, cuz you’re the best fucking person in this entire shitty town, and I know that. You gonna meet up with him at the Lima Bean?”

“He just really seems like he needs a friend right now.”

 

David kissed him again. “See? You’re so fucking good, Kurt. And it’ll be good for you too- having someone else who’s out, that you can do stuff with. You deserve so much more-”

 

“Hush.” This time Kurt leaned up and kissed David quiet. “You’re good too. You’re so good, David, and you are worth waiting for. I don’t need to parade in front of a coffee shop to be happy with you. I don’t care about any of that silly, cliché high school romance stuff- not really.”

 

But he did. He did care. Especially when David didn’t _ask_ for his letterman jacket back as they made their way towards the bus- but clearly became tenser and tenser, the closer they came to rejoining their teammates.

 

“I’m not cold anymore,” Kurt finally muttered. He slipped the jacket off and handed it back to David, without meeting his eyes. Then he raced ahead to the bus, and had himself firmly wedged between Trina and Mercedes by the time David got on.

 

He started a loud, gossipy conversation with them and laughed a little too loudly at everything they said the whole trip home.

 

-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings this chapter for internalized homophobia, angst, jealous behavior, and one-sided Klaine.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mild warnings in the end notes-

 

Blaine did end up texting him- and if he was disappointed to be friendzoned he was at least gracious about it- and they had a delightful time discussing the year in Vogue covers over coffee. Coffee that they drank together- completely in public.

 

It was so freeing to have another gay boy to talk to.

 

While David certainly seemed to be gay- apart from his endless enthusiasm for kissing Kurt, and sucking Kurt off, and fucking Kurt into any available flat surface- be it horizontal or vertical- he wasn’t interested in any other aspects of what Kurt considered gay culture. And as little as David wanted to discuss Vogue covers, or original cast albums, he clearly wanted to hear what Blaine had said about those topics even less.

 

But he always said “I’m glad you had fun, baby,” or something to that effect, and he seemed sincere when he said it. Even if he usually said it while he was lying on top of Kurt, pressing him into the mattress- in between sucking a string of hickeys across Kurt’s collarbone.

 

-

 

David was _not_ glad to hear that Blaine was coming to their Night of Neglect benefit- but he was already incredibly pissed off about the concert in general- and not only because Mr. Schue had refused to listen when he attempted to discreetly correct the teacher’s wonky fundraising math. He was certain that the whole thing would end in disaster and total humiliation.

 

“You’re overreacting, David. No one is going to waste their money on a ticket just to laugh at us.”

 

“Except for everyone in Z’s club. That was formed specifically to laugh at us.”

 

“A few jealous hecklers aren’t going to hurt us. They’ll be drowned out by Sunshine’s fans anyway.”

 

“If Sunshine has so many people coming, why haven’t any of them pre-ordered tickets? Isn’t she in Vocal Adrenaline? Don’t you guys have like a million stories about Vocal Adrenaline trying to fuck with your heads?”

 

“What are you so afraid of? Any chance to perform is worth the risk-and I’m sure it’ll all be fine, anyway!”

 

-

 

Kurt was in no mood for the mutinous, told-you-so glare on David’s face when lo-and-behold, Sunshine _had_ been playing them or something- and ten minutes before curtain-rise the auditorium was empty apart from a clump of hecklers and a very confused looking Blaine.

 

“What the hell- why are we still going through with this? Can’t we just bail?”

 

“The show must go on!” Kurt and Rachel snapped in perfect unison.

 

“But we outnumber the audience at least three to one! Where are all your parents? I mean I know why my parents aren’t here- because I didn’t want them anywhere near this shitshow- but seriously, none of you made your families shell out for this crap? Does anyone here understand how money works?”

 

Kurt could see that Tina, already prone to stage fright, was looking greener and greener, the longer Dave ranted- so he gave him a warning side-eye and pushed between them, blocking Tina’s view of Dave.“

 

“Are you almost ready, Tina? You’re going to do so great. I’m so jealous that you get to open. Oooh- did you hear that Mrs. Pillsbury-Hot Carl-Howell is just gonna be Miss Pillsbury again?”

 

Fortunately, nothing made Tina happier than the misfortunes of others. “No way- Hot Carl was sooo hot! Oh well, maybe now she can finally get with Mr. Schuester.”

 

“Mr. Schuester would be an idiot to go for it now- he has a shot with Ms. Holiday- she’s like ten times hotter than everyone else in this town!”

 

“Aw, Miss P’s pretty cute too. I thought you would appreciate the effort she puts into coordinating her wardrobe.”

 

“She’s cute for Ohio, I guess, and at least she tries- even if she’s a total J Crew junkie- but at the end of the day she’s nothing special. Ms. Holiday is glamorous and cool, and fence-jumping sexy.”

 

“Miss P has been in love with Mr. Schuester forever,” David muttered behind Kurt’s shoulder.

 

Kurt could not _believe_ that Dave was just making up other things to be right about, as if the doomed concert wasn’t enough. He turned around very slowly- to show how little he appreciated being interrupted- and rolled his eyes.

 

“That’s her problem- not Mr. Schuester’s. Besides, how many chances has she had with him already? She chickens out every time. Mr. Schue shouldn’t waste his time on a scared quitter, who’s just going to drag him d-”

 

David turned around in the middle of Kurt’s speech and stormed out of the dressing room, slamming the door behind him.

 

Kurt and Tina shared a bewildered look.

 

“I guess he really ships Pilster?” Tina shrugged.

 

“The last thing this club needs is _another_ diva freakout,” Kurt grumbled. Rachel, Lauren, and Mercedes were still arguing about the set order on the other side of the room. Kurt sighed dramatically (but not _over_ -dramatically, like everyone else). “I’ll go get him, I guess.”

 

Dave was pacing up and down the hallway- grinding his jaw and flaring his nostrils like an angry bull.

 

“What the Helen Hayes is going on with you tonight, David Karofsky?”

 

Dave turned his back on Kurt and stomped further down the hall. Kurt felt the hair lifting off the back of his neck in rage. He chased after Dave and grabbed him by the elbow. Dave stopped but still refused to turn around.

 

“Don’t you dare walk away from me! The concert is about to start and you need to suck it up and get over yourself! I have no idea why you’re acting like such a _child_ , but-”

 

“Oh- I’m a child? I’m the only person in this whole shitty group that lives in the real world! You think this crappy concert matters? There’s nothing here for you, Kurt. There’s no fucking talent scout sitting in the back row going ‘gee, these zitty farm-kids with their half assed musical arrangements that they stole off of Youtube are just what I’ve been looking for.’ It’s like you keep saying- most of us are going to end up Lima losers, and all we’ll have to show for this night is total social suicide!”

 

“Hey!”

 

Before Kurt could pick which of half a dozen cutting retorts to make, Blaine was running between them and shoved David back.

 

“Don’t you talk to him like that!”

 

“Beat it, kid, this is a private conversation!” David’s nostrils flared even more.

 

“Go ahead and beat me!” Blaine threw back his arms dramatically. “I’m not afraid of you, and I’m not going to let you abuse my friend anymore!”

 

“Oh my god, Blaine,” Kurt pinched the bridge of his nose, “Nobody here is being abused. I don’t have time for this, the show is about to start. Go back to your seat, and I’ll talk to you at intermission.”

 

“You’re a terrible person, Karofsky, you know that?” Blaine spat at David then turned to Kurt with big, moist eyes. “Kurt, can’t you see that you deserve so much better than this big sack of-”

 

David let out an angry grunt and loomed over Blaine, grabbing him by the shirt.

 

“Shut the fuck up, you don’t know what you’re talking about, and no one fucking cares what you think!”

 

“Speak for yourself, Big Fun.”

 

Kurt stiffened. He knew that evil, evil voice.

 

“ _I_ want to know what Pocket Gay thinks. Go on-” Santana Lopez crossed her arms under her evil inflated breasts and smirked with her evil inflated lips- “What does the fair Lady Hummel need rescuing from?”

 

“Nothing! Nothing is going on!” David dropped Blaine and stormed away from Kurt for the third time in as many minutes. “Just delusional drama queens- making some big deal out of fuck-all, like always!”

 

Kurt tried to call after him, but he couldn’t work around the sudden, painful catch in his throat. He tried to disentangle himself from Blaine’s overprotective clutches and go after him- but Santana was suddenly up in his face.

 

“Keep your gay hysteria to yourself, Hummel. What am I supposed to do if Karofsky bails before our number? We don’t need you freaking out the only halfway popular guy left in this club.”

 

“I don’t think you’re really the right person to be giving advice about how to keep guys around, Santana.”

 

From the way her eyes narrowed, Kurt knew he would be paying for that comment later- but he just didn’t care about anything except the knot of ‘delusional’ hurt feeling, twisting under his breastbone.

 

-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for jealousy, shoving, arguing, internalized homophobia, and various body-shaming, homophobic, and/or misogynistic insults and opinions. This chapter takes place during Night of Neglect.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings in the end notes-

 

Kurt had chosen to sing [Voi Che Sapete](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dmUKxUNAGl8) from The Marriage of Figaro- reasoning that even if it wasn’t exactly neglected on the world stage, maybe three people in this entire cow town had ever even been to an opera, and no one was likely to realize that he was technically singing a girl’s role (or that he had gone with an [arrangement](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_GHm4MK6F1Y) that skirted around the more difficult passages).

 

He probably mangled the Italian, but that turned out to be a blessing because the heckling club tuned out the foreign words like so much elevator music, using his performance for bathroom breaks and catching up on their texting. Mr. Ryerson made some half-hearted rips-

 

“Your head voice is pathetic! Go back to the bathroom at Scandals- you clearly need to practice your open throat technique!”

 

But thankfully he was soon distracted by a heated disagreement with Azimio Adams, ranking the relative hotness of the cast of NCIS- so Kurt didn’t suffer nearly as much active abuse as poor Tina had.

 

Nevertheless, it was certainly turning out to be an incredibly humiliating evening. He couldn’t even steal a moment of comfort with his boyfriend- because that would have meant admitting Dave had been right, and because he was scared of the several horrible things they had just almost said to each other, oh- and because his boyfriend was closeted, and would probably freak out if Kurt tried to hold his hand, even in the pitch-black wings of a mostly empty theater.

 

-

 

Kurt lurked offstage after his number, rather than deal with any of the drama he assumed was still going on in the dressing room. He looked up when David came through the stage door- looking very handsome in a surprisingly halfway decently-fitted suit. David’s eyes met his in the darkness, and Kurt could tell that he was sorry.

 

Kurt took a half-step towards him, his hands lifting unbidden, itching to straighten David’s tie- but Santana and Brittany- both poured into short, tight black dresses- dragged David out on the stage before he could reach him.

 

Azimio let out a loud wolf whistle from the audience. David scowled and lunged forward, but Santana yanked him back and shoved a microphone at him. David looked miserable, trapped and furious- but he raised the microphone as the opening notes of some Motown song that Kurt wasn’t familiar with started to play.

 

[At the dark end of the street](http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x4h4y8_the-commitments-dark-end-of-the-str_music)

That is where we always meet

Hiding in shadows where we don’t belong

Living in darkness, to hide our wrong

 

Kurt hadn’t heard David sing solo since Valentine’s Day. His face felt like it was burning, David’s voice swept over him with shocking power, wringing every devastating nuance out of the uncomfortably apt lyrics.

 

Santana and Brittany chimed in softly beneath him on the chorus-

 

You and me

At the dark end of the street

You and me

 

David’s eyes slid sideways, catching Kurt’s on the last “you and me.” Kurt’s throat tightened- of course the similarity of the lyrics to their current situation wasn’t coincidental.

 

I know time is gonna take its toll

We have to pay for the love we stole

It’s a sin and we know it’s wrong-

 

The despair in David’s tone as he sang the word “sin” was undeniable- his hand came up to fiddle just under his collar, and Kurt knew that he was touching his maternal grandfather’s crucifix, which he always wore on a silver chain around his neck.

 

Kurt had always hated, _hated_ that crucifix- hated the way David constantly touched it when he was uncomfortable- hated the way it would dangle over Kurt sometimes, when David was on top of him, swaying in his face as they made love- hated how he obviously couldn’t _say_ how much he hated it without sounding intolerant.

 

Because it was obvious now- David meant it, he really did. He thought that what they had together was a sin and that it was wrong.

 

Kurt wasn’t able to focus on the rest of the song- he could vaguely tell that it only grew more heartfelt and devastating, because even Santana started weeping as she harmonized-

 

They’re gonna find us

They’re gonna find us

They’re gonna find this love someday

 

And he could hear Mr. Ryerson’s loud, ugly sobs in the audience- and Kurt supposed he must also have been crying, himself, because David shook his head at him with a miserable look as he sang-

 

Oh, darling, please don’t you cry

 

So probably Kurt was crying- everything did seem pretty blurry. But whatever was happening was happening somewhere far, far removed from Kurt, and he was outside of it. That sounded like a good idea, actually, outside. Maybe he would be able to breathe again, outside.

 

He slipped out the stage door before the song could end and anyone could follow him.

 

-

 

He had finally begun to notice how cold it was, out in the parking lot, by the time David eventually found him.

 

“Jesus, Kurt! What are you doing out here in the dark? You’re gonna fucking freeze- here.”

 

David had his letterman and he arranged it carefully over Kurt’s shoulders. Just for a second Kurt let him- it was so warm and it smelt so good- but then he got a hold of himself and shrugged away.

 

“Please don’t. Not if I have to give it back before anyone sees. It hurts too much, David.”

 

David slowly drew the jacket back, crumpling it into a ball between his hands- his shoulders hunched over at a dejected angle. Kurt wanted to reassure him, but he couldn’t.

 

“Did you really mean everything in that song?”

 

“I- you’re too good to live like this, Kurt. I can’t be brave like you- but I also can’t risk someone hurting you because of me.”

 

“But I’m already hurt! Didn’t I just say that?”

 

“Yeah, and I’m so sorry, baby- that’s my fault, that’s all my fault- I should have never- but I’m not talking about hurt feelings- I meant what if someone physically hurts you? Because they _would-_ if they knew about us they would come after you, and I cant-”

 

“But-” Kurt couldn’t believe he had anymore tears left, yet here they came, making his voice shake- “I understand why you’re afraid, I really do, and I’m not saying those fears aren’t valid- but do you think- do you _really_ think that what we’re doing is a sin?”

 

David didn’t answer but his hand went right to that damn crucifix.

 

“Well then… I guess this is-”

 

David pulled Kurt into his arms and kissed him, refusing to let go. He was so solid and warm, Kurt couldn’t help kissing back, his arms snuck around David’s waist without permission. Their cheeks were wet with each other’s tears, and possibly a fair amount of snot, but somehow that didn’t bother Kurt at all.

 

“It’s worth it,” David croaked, his voice utterly wrecked and broken. He dropped wet, frantic kisses all over Kurt’s face. “I don’t care about anything else- it’s worth it to be with you.”

 

“But I care. I can’t- I can’t be part of something bad that you do to yourself, I can’t be something that you think is _wrong_.” Kurt let himself lean into one last kiss, before grabbing David’s face and forcing him to stop.

 

“I would wait for you, David. I would- if it were only that you’re afraid of what everyone else thinks- but it’s what _you_ think.”

 

Kurt slid out of David’s arms. David reached for him again but Kurt stepped back firmly.

 

David hunched over and sobbed frantically, shoving his fist into his mouth in an attempt to stifle it. His letterman lay forgotten on the dirty asphalt where it had dropped from his shaking fingers.

 

Kurt clenched his hands at his sides, to keep them from reaching out, and made himself walk away.

 

-

 

Kurt spent a long time with his emergency skincare kit in the bathroom before he went back to the dressing room. Everyone was excited about a surprise donation, so his absence passed without comment, except from a sharp glance from Santana.

 

“Where’s Donkey Kong?”

 

“I think he’s getting something from his truck.” Kurt muttered, pretending a deep fascination with his shirt cuffs.

 

-

 

Blaine, bless his drama-loving little heart, took one look at Kurt and clutched him to his diminutive breast. Kurt felt his face wobble dangerously.

 

“Not here,” he whispered, “I’m so sorry to impose, I know I said I’d give you a ride, but I don’t think it’s safe for me to drive right now. Would you be able to drive the Navigator for me?”

 

“I have a learner’s permit, but I’m only supposed to drive with adult supervision.”

 

“Ok… let me ask Finn if-”

 

Blaine hugged Kurt tighter. “No, it’s fine, I can do it! Anything I can do to help- besides, now we can have a fun sleepover!”

 

Kurt tried to return Blaine’s smile, but began shaking with suppressed sobs. Blaine pulled Kurt’s head down to rest on his shoulder and made soothing noises. It was comforting, even though Kurt had to hunch over awkwardly for the position to work.

 

When Blaine ushered him out to the car David was still standing in the middle of the parking lot.

 

The betrayed look in his eyes, when he noticed Blaine’s arm wrapped around Kurt’s waist, replayed in Kurt’s mind over and over that night as he sobbed himself dry, well into the small hours of the morning- Blaine by his side the whole time, rubbing his back and murmuring reassurances.

 

-

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings this chapter for internalized homophobia, religious intolerance, creepily sexual heckling, Blaine, and heavy angst.
> 
> Kurt's aria is from the Marriage of Figaro, written by Mozart in 1786. Cherubino is a breeches role, written for a female mezzo-soprano, but is sometimes performed by male counter tenors in recent times:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dmUKxUNAGl8
> 
> Kurt performs a simpler, less operatic version, such as this one from the 1995 Pride & Prejudice:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_GHm4MK6F1Y
> 
> The Dark End Of The Street was written in 1967 by Dan Penn and Chips Moman, and first recorded by James Carr. Performed as in the 1991 film The Commitments, by The Commitments, featuring Andrew Strong, who was 16! at the time of recording:
> 
> http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x4h4y8_the-commitments-dark-end-of-the-str_music


	18. Chapter 18

 

Kurt was no stranger to sadness- his mother had died and his father had almost died- and Kurt was still here. He knew logically that a breakup, especially one where he had absolutely made the correct choice, was nothing compared to what he had already survived- but he was just _so_ sad.

 

He missed David, and he missed sex, and he was so worried about how David was dealing with it, and he was so lonely, and he was afraid to look at his phone because their entire relationship was still sitting there in a long string of adorable text messages, just waiting to be continued- and they wouldn’t be.

 

Or at least shouldn’t be- they were tempting Kurt to madness- so dangerously easy to reply to. He knew that he should just erase it all, but he couldn’t bear to.

 

The secrecy of their relationship had been alternately exciting and frustrating while it was happening- but it was worse now, because there was nobody that Kurt could talk to about it- and Kurt really, really needed to talk about it. In minute detail. For many, many hours. But none of his friends knew or could know- except Blaine.

 

To Blaine’s credit, he was trying his very best to be comforting and supportive. He watched Moulin Rouge with Kurt four times that weekend (David had always complained that the camerawork gave him motion sickness and that the whole thing was stupid and an insult to Freddy Mercury’s and Kurt Cobain’s memories).

 

He invited Kurt to all the unofficial Warbler get-togethers (almost all of these get-togethers involved Kurt sitting in a chair and making faces of polite interest while Blaine sang at him- but it was really very flattering).

 

Most of all, he listened to Kurt talk- for far longer than Rachel or Tina, or even Mercedes would have been able to stand it- and Kurt truly appreciated it. He just wished there was an inoffensive but effective way to get Blaine to stop giving him advice.

 

He had at least stopped overtly badmouthing David- Kurt would instantly shut down the conversation whenever Blaine would start to bring it up, and apparently the face he made at those times was pretty frightening- but Blaine kept finding new ways to _covertly_ badmouth David-

 

Blaine had been so _concerned_ for Kurt’s welfare- didn’t Kurt feel, if not better, at least freer now? Kurt’s life was going to improve so much, now that nothing was holding him back- there was romance waiting, closer than Kurt thought- once he was ready, of course.

 

-

 

Kurt didn’t know if his breathlessness owed more to anticipation or dread, when he had to go back to school on Monday- but all he saw of David that day was the back of his broad shoulders as he strode rapidly in the opposite direction of anywhere that Kurt was.

 

He looked up just once- when Tina and Mercedes gasped loudly as Kurt squelched into glee practice dripping from at least three slushies.

 

He looked awful. He looked like he really, truly hadn’t slept since the parking lot, his eyes were burned deep into their sockets. His lips compressed into a thin, white line as he took in Kurt’s ruined clothes- but then he hunched further into the back corner of the room and turned his face to the wall.

 

Mr. Schuester asked if anyone had something prepared and Kurt tensed- wondering if David was about to either beg him for another chance or tear him a new one through song. But David just shook his head when Mr. Schuester called on him and stared harder at the wall.

 

-

 

He just shook his head when he was invited to join Rachel’s rhinoplastervention flash mob, he shook his head when he was offered a solo verse in Born This Way, he shook his head when Mr. Schue had everyone go around in a circle and reveal what they’d had printed on their shirts.

 

Not that it mattered- Mr. Schue shook the shirt out and showed it to everyone before handing it over, anyway. But even that revealed nothing- because the message on David’s shirt was a total cop-out.

 

“Just Another Lima Loser- really?”

 

Kurt cornered David after rehearsal for the Born This Way performance that they were apparently putting on solely for their own amusement.

 

“I understand that you have to be careful- even though no one outside the glee club is going to see any of this- but this is so trite, David. There wasn’t anything real, anything you’re dealing with that actually matters, that you could have chosen?”

 

For the first time in months David loomed at Kurt in a decidedly threatening way, his upper lip lifted in an ugly sneer.

 

“Don’t call me David, you sound like my fucking grandma. Besides, you already made it pretty fucking clear how much you think I matter, Hummel. I know how much you loooove skipping around, educating all us ignorant cavemen- but you’re not actually Gay Jesus, and you don’t know jack shit about anything _real_.”

 

Kurt leaned in, heedless of David’s- _Dave’s_ menacing expression, semi-good intentions forgotten as his own anger flared in response.

 

“Boohoo, poor Karofsky, life is so hard for _you_ , with your football cronies, and your popularity, and your _slushies_. Really, if Lima Loser is the worst thing anyone’s ever called you-”

 

“It is! It’s the worst thing you ever called me, and you don’t get to fucking tell me how I feel about it!”

 

David yelled so hard that the tendons in his neck were straining, he was brick red up to his hairline.

 

“David.” Kurt said in a much smaller voice.

 

He reached a hand up towards David’s heaving shoulder.

 

“Dave, I’m-”

 

David jerked back abruptly.

 

“Just stay out of my face, Hummel.”

 

Kurt opened his mouth to apologize, but Dave was already out the door.

 

-

 

The first thing Kurt saw the next morning, right across from his locker, was a giant poster that read-

 

Vote Santofsky For Prom! Safety You Can Depend On – Sexy You Wanna Get Up On!

 

There was a photo of Dave and Santana in red paramilitary berets and jackets, Santana’s was unzipped halfway down her cleavage. Dave had a walkie talkie in one hand and the other wrapped tightly around Santana’s tiny waist as she plastered herself against him.

 

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No real warnings this chapter, except for angst and Blaine.
> 
> This chapter takes place during Born This Way.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mild warnings in the end notes-

Kurt stared at the poster. All he could think was that it must be a prank someone was pulling. It had to be a prank, but then the real articles came walking up and the jackets- the horrible shiny jackets were real.

Santana’s hand was squeezing Dave’s ass and Dave was standing there, in public, letting her. Some jocks walked by and high-fived him as he continued to stand there being publicly groped.

Santana caught Kurt’s unblinking focus on her hand clutching at Dave’s ass and she smirked.

“Good news, Lady Elaine. Dave and I have experienced sweet and tender love together- plus sex. The special kind of love that makes you special. We’re just oozing with raw sexual energy and the selfless compassion that comes from being so much better than everyone- like Brangelina. 

So we have decided to share our precious gift with the rest of the school. No longer will your prissy ways, desperately ridiculous outfits and unjustifiably smug comments be met with the violence any reasonable person would expect and stop inciting. 

The Bully Whips are here to protect you from the trouble you willfully bring down on yourself. Mi Davcito and I will be escorting you to all of your classes now, when we’re not too distracted by each other’s hot bods, of course.”

She kissed Dave loudly, leaving lipstick smeared across his mouth, and gave Kurt another smile that was entirely too knowing. 

Dave let her. He didn’t even try to wipe the lipstick off. 

Santana’s head suddenly whipped around to track one of the third-string freshman football players, who was carrying a slushy.

“Hold up, hey pendejo! That better be for drinking, not throwing, or Imma shove it so far up your ass your butt will never be able to get the bench warm again!”

“It’s for drinking, it’s for drinking!” The underclassman cowered in terror as Santana advanced on him.

“Then drink it up!”

“It’s like 7:30 in the morning, I was gonna save it for-”

“Every last drop! Suck it up right now!”

He sucked like his life depended on it. Santana squeezed the sides of the cup and shoved the straw further down the kid’s throat.

“Faster!”

“I’mb gonna get bwain-fweeze,” he spluttered around the straw.

“If it’s not gone in the next 30 seconds you’re getting a blue raspberry colonic.”

“Ahh!” The slushy slipped out of the kid’s fingers, exploding at his feet, as he clutched his forehead in pain and blue ice came spewing out of his nostrils.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Santana whacked him upside the head. “Let’s go find a mop, Linda Blair. You’re gonna clean all this crap up.”

“Bud I hab a math te-”

“You’re on the football team, barely- you don’t need math. Let’s go, before I make you lick it up.”

Kurt was left alone in the hallway with a sticky puddle of icy blue snot and a silent, impassive David Karofsky.

Kurt stared at Dave and clutched his messenger bag with stiff, whitened fingers.

Dave appeared very intent on fiddling with his walkie-talkie.

“You’re going out with Santana now?”

Dave gave a tiny shrug with his massive shoulders.

“Santana?! Santana Lopez? The nastiest-”

“Don’t talk smack about my girlfriend, Hummel. Let’s get you to class.”

“Is she blackmailing you?” Kurt whispered, trying to be discreet.

Dave’s nostrils flared- a sure sign of both agitation and avoidance.

“Santana gets me like no one else ever did. She believes in me and together we can do something that matters at this school, keeping people safe. For the first time in my life I’m with someone who trusts me and supports me. Plus she keeps it tight, I like holding on to her slinky little hips.”

Kurt’s jaw clenched. Dave knew how sensitive he was about what Coach Sylvester called his pear-hips.

“Well congratulations. I’m glad you have such an honest and genuine relationship.”

“How’s it going with you and Major Appliance?”

“I assume you mean Blaine, and he’s wonderful, actually. He’d do anything to make me happy. In fact we’re going out to a romantic French restaurant tonight.”

Poop. Now Kurt had to find a French restaurant that deigned to operate within a hundred mile radius of Lima. And begin a romantic relationship with Blaine.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings this chapter- Slightly misogynistic and body-shamed thoughts from Kurt, Slightly effemiphobic and victim-blaming comments from Santana. Santana bullies someone by force-feeding them a slushy. Imminent Klaine.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings in the end notes-

 

Blaine cheerfully agreed to a date for that night without a single awkward question about the suddenness of Kurt’s offer. Which was what Kurt had wanted, so he really had no reason to feel annoyed.

 

Maybe a touch guilty about his own behavior- but not too guilty- because he _did_ like Blaine and this _was_ a real date.

 

But absolutely, completely no reason to feel annoyed just because Blaine seemed to take their relationship as a foregone conclusion when Kurt had never given him any encouragement before this afternoon.

 

-

 

Everything was lovely. Blaine was so sweet and Kurt truly enjoyed giving him the perfect first date that he deserved and, more importantly, would appreciate the finer details of.

 

Blaine recognized the designer brand of Kurt’s exquisitely tailored suit (in fact,

he was wearing the same line- but from the latest collection, not several seasons old, like Kurt). He sniffed appreciatively at the beautiful bouquet Kurt presented him with, rather than wrinkling his nose and refusing to sit in the same room as a flower arrangement unless a fan was on.

 

He said thank you when Kurt held open the door of the Navigator for him, and at no point did he attempt to roll up all the windows and suffocate Kurt with farts.

 

Blaine was an open, positive person, who was excited to try new things. He didn’t mind when- judging by the strange appearance of their entrees- Kurt’s grasp of the French that the menu was written in proved even more limited than Kurt had feared. The food was seriously intimidating, but- unlike some people- Blaine would never scowl like a toddler, scrape all the garnishes and sauces to the side of his plate, or demand ketchup from a clearly insulted server.

 

They kissed in the Navigator in Blaine’s driveway, and it was lovely.

 

Blaine didn’t really seem to know what he was doing, so it was a tiny bit frustrating that he kept trying to control the kiss. But Kurt would never want him to feel intimidated or hurt his budding sexual confidence, so he did his best to ignore the overabundance of saliva and surprisingly sharp teeth, and eventually it started to feel…nice. Better than not kissing someone, at least- even if he did have to rein himself in, because Blaine clearly didn’t enjoy it when Kurt would accidentally try to set the pace.

 

Kurt hadn’t even realized how much David had rubbed off on him in this area. He had never in his life roughhoused with other boys- but that’s what they’d been doing in between all the sex- wrestling and play-fighting and rolling around in bed trying to pin each other.

 

Careful and respectful was nice too though. Plus it left him with a lot more energy to throw into helping Sam and his family with their top secret financial problems.

 

-

 

Quinn was trying her best to be a supportive girlfriend to Sam, and from a purely practical standpoint she was doing a great job, but it was clearly wearing her down.

 

She and Sam seemed about as affectionate as coworkers now, and she was seething with jealousy over Lauren’s and Santana’s prom queen campaigns. The school was buzzing with rumors and speculations, wondering why she and Sam weren’t running.

 

Sam was really embarrassed about his family’s situation- Kurt would never have found out if Sam hadn’t delivered a pizza to his house- and Quinn had promised not to tell, but it had put her in a pretty awkward social situation.

 

And now it was putting Kurt in an awkward position, as all of the gossips in glee club raised their eyebrows at Sam and Kurt’s recent closeness- loudly wondering if a boy that spent so much time on his abs and improbably blond hair could really be 100% straight (never mind that Kurt had wondered right along with them in the past- it wasn’t offensive when _Kurt_ did it because… because… whatever).

 

It stung that everyone, even his own stepbrother, assumed that Kurt was cheating with Sam though.

 

-

 

Everything came to a boil thanks to Mr. Schue’s latest attempt to shove the 70’s down their throats and inappropriately engage in their personal lives. Santana, to Kurt’s total lack of surprise, spearheaded the witch-hunt.

 

“No wonder Trout-Pout wouldn’t go for a little somethin-somethin with me and my spectacular lady-lumps. I should have known that he only puckers up those giant lips to go pole-vaulting with Little Miss High and Mighty Hum-”

 

“Cut it out, Santana.”

 

“Dave. My precious jewel. Don’t you ever fucking tell me what to do, or I will rip off your-”

 

“Hummel wouldn’t cheat.” Kurt was touched by the absolute certainty in Dave’s voice, the tight feeling in his chest unclenched a little. “Nah, Saint Hummel would never give up the moral high ground like that. First he’s gotta dump that other chump he’s seeing- so he can pretend to himself it’s all a crazy coincidence when he trips and falls on his new slam-piece’s dick barely a week later.”

 

The calm dignity with which Kurt had ignored his other “friends” seemed to have deserted him, right around when he knocked his chair over as he jumped up and shoved Dave Karofsky in his stupid, hypocritical chest.

 

“Screw you, Karofsky! First of all, _I_ don’t have to pretend anything- I know exactly who I am, and unlike _some_ people, I’m not too scared to own up to it. Secondly, I have not, and I hope I never would, betrayed the person that I was dating. But even if I were a cheater-” Kurt’s eyes swept the room, accusingly, lingering on Santana- “it wouldn’t make the actions of everyone in this room who has cheated already any less reprehensible.”

 

He jabbed his fingers at Dave’s chest again, but Dave remained infuriatingly unmoved as Kurt tried to push him back.

 

“And thirdly, I would never treat a past partner with so little respect. I would never refer to them by cruel, disgusting epithets or fall immediately onto- into bed with someone new, just out of spite.”

 

“Ohhhh,” Santana clicked her tongue. “Hummel isn’t getting any from either of his boy-toys, no wonder you’re such an uptight little bitch.”

 

“Seriously Kurt,” Santana peeled Kurt’s hand away from Karofsky’s chest, her nails digging vindictively into his wrist. “You should get Prep School or Trouty Mouth, or hell, even one of the fine professionals that work next to the dumpster behind the Stop n Go to clean your pipes. It works wonders for your personality. I would have broken half the bird bones in your limp wrist by now, if I wasn’t so mellow from getting dug out by Big D here on the regular.”

 

 

She released Kurt’s wrist dismissively and raised her hand up, and Davi- _Karofsky_ high-fived her.

 

The room erupted- some people hooted and whistled approvingly, some voiced disgust- but Kurt was abruptly done. He couldn’t think of a single reason he still wanted to be in this room or around these people.

 

He turned away from Santana and Karofsky without another word. He hoped that his face didn’t look as destroyed as he felt- but he knew that it probably did, so he kept his head down as he picked his messenger bag up from the floor and draped his jacket precisely over his arm, hiding his shaking fingers in its folds.

 

Through the cacophony of voices he still recognized the sound of Karofsky sucking in his breath with unfair clarity, he felt the riser creak as the much heavier boy shifted forward behind him, but he didn’t look back.

 

He was headed straight out the choir room door- very possibly never to return- when Sam yelled at everyone to shut up and finally explained his family’s financial crisis and that Kurt had only been _helping_ him.

 

Everyone looked very ashamed of themselves. Kurt would have probably enjoyed the schadenfreude if he hadn’t felt so much like dying at the moment. And if Sam’s obvious humiliation hadn’t made Kurt feel rather selfish- feeling so sorry for himself when his friend was willing to expose his far more serious problems to protect Kurt’s comparatively trivial feelings.

 

-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter-  
> Klaine.
> 
> Slight underage sexual situations- in this story Kurt is 18 and Blaine is barely 16, however everything between them so far is above the waist.
> 
> Uncomfortable making out, with Kurt worried that he is being too aggressive.
> 
> Public shaming, slut-shaming, sexualized insults and slight physical altercations (Kurt shoves Dave, Santana digs her nails into Kurt's wrist and threatens him).
> 
> This chapter takes place during the episode Rumours.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings in the end notes-

 

 

Finn offered to buy Sam’s guitar back for him, Rachel asked him about his favorite songs and started to plan a special performance to lift his spirits, Mercedes offered to ask about her church’s relief programs. Karofsky rolled his eyes and asked Sam what kind of work his parents had been doing before.

 

Then he abused his position as a Bully Whip to harass Strando into getting Sam’s dad an interview with his uncle’s construction company. And he guilted Mr. Schue into helping Sam’s mom qualify to sub at McKinley (qualify was a strong word- she basically just had to provide proof that she was over 18 and wasn’t a registered sex offender, at least in the state of Ohio, and bring in either vaccination records or a religious exemption waiver).

 

When he realized how little it took Kurt seriously considered getting his GED and applying to steal Mr. Schuester’s job out from under him- until he remembered that this would require him to spend even more time with his “friends” in New Directions.

 

-

 

Kurt was determined to utterly ignore Karofsky for as long as Karofsky was determined to continue his unnecessary security escorts- but as they were walking in icy silence to Kurt’s French class, he glanced through an open door in passing, and saw Mrs. Evans smiling as she talked to her students.

 

Kurt still refused to make eye contact, but he took a deep breath, determined to give credit where it was due.

 

“That was really great you know? What you did for Sam’s family. You deserve a lot of respect for-”

 

“No I don’t. I don’t deserve shit, I’m an asshole and no matter how hard I try, I’ll never make up for all of it. I’m sorry Kurt.”

 

His breath caught audibly and Kurt looked up at him, finally. He had ripped off his stupid beret and his eyes were red and shiny with moisture.

 

“I keep having to apologize, cuz I keep hurting you, and you don’t deserve it, none of it. I didn’t mean any of that shit I said. I know that you would never cheat, or lie, or use someone- you’re the best person I ever met, Kurt.”

 

Kurt clenched his hands. His fingers ached to stroke the crease the beret had left out of David’s hair, to take his face in his hands and use his thumbs to gently swipe away the tears under his eyes.

 

“David- I’m sorry, Dave-”

 

“I didn’t mean that either, I always liked how you were the only one who called me David. It was like, private, special. Anyway you really don’t have to be sorry about anything, ever- but especially not that- you can call me David, or Hey You, or Fuckface, or whatever you want…”

 

“David, then. I-”

 

“Cool, thanks. I gotta get to calculus but remember, wait for me here, alright?”

 

Kurt nodded but he didn’t wait after class, he couldn’t. David thought that Kurt was a good person, but Kurt knew that he was a heartbeat away from dragging David into the nearest dark corner and doing very bad things with him- never mind that they were both dating other, innocent people. Well, one innocent person and Santana.

 

-

 

At least Kurt could feel proud when Quinn and Sam unknowingly followed his example and managed to break up amicably, without any cheating on either side.

 

Quinn had expected Sam to run for prom court, now that his family could afford it, but he just wasn’t interested. It was the excuse they had both, perhaps, been waiting for- and they agreed that they wanted different things and broke it off.

 

Quinn approached Shane, a football player with a solid popularity base, whom she had met through Christian youth events. He was already running for king and was happy to join forces with her.

 

It didn’t seem like the most romantic arrangement to Kurt- but Shane clearly respected Quinn and shared her ambitions- and that was what she seemed to need right now. And respect was a better base than most for relationships- respect could easily lead to romance-

 

In fact, Kurt was going to respect Blaine’s socks off (metaphorically- he actually wished Blaine _would_ wear socks when out of uniform, there were often odor issues- and that Blaine would quit cramping Kurt’s bowtie style- Kurt was almost ready to give them up as played out- he had started doing research on avant-garde asymmetrical knitwear).

 

But clearly Blaine wouldn’t be imitating him if he didn’t respect him. Maybe if Kurt just gave himself over to this and made a real commitment the passion would follow.

 

So- although it might have appeared to an outside observer (but there better not have been anyone peeping outside his bedroom, observing this) as though Kurt was allowing Blaine to push him back onto his bed and approach the heretofore no-fly zone of his three-button fly as a bribe- so that Blaine would finally agree to be his prom date- it was actually a deeply meaningful moment of mutual regard, that would promote a bond of true intimacy between them.

 

Besides Blaine _was_ being pretty brave, considering his history with school dances. Kurt only wished that his own promises to protect Blaine had been the deciding factor, rather than his backup assurances that the Bully Whips would be on duty. It irked him a little that Blaine obviously believed that Dave could provide security where Kurt could not- and it irked him even more when Blaine let slip that he wanted to come now so that _he_ could protect Kurt from _Dave_.

 

Jealousy was even less cute on Blaine than it had been on Dave- at least Dave- _David’s_ (he had admitted to liking it, after all) jealousy had been openly admitted and apologized for, and often resulted in extremely enjoyable bouts of territorial love-biting (Blaine thought hickeys were tacky, Kurt thought they were rather thrilling, as long as they were discreetly placed- he might have cried a little when the last mark that David had left on his inner thigh eventually faded).

 

Why couldn’t Blaine just trust that Kurt was with him, and only him- no matter how much Kurt had been tempted in the hallway- it was not in his nature to be unfaithful- just thinking about infidelity was making his stomach start to hurt-

 

Blaine said something that ended with a rising inflection- Kurt nodded vaguely- tried to discreetly shift their positions, so that Blaine’s weight wasn’t resting on his churning stomach-

 

Blaine’s eyes widened and he squeaked uncharacteristically. Kurt focused guiltily, what had he just agreed to?

 

Blaine leaned back hastily- wait- he was unzipping his- and digging something out of his back pocket with a telltale crinkling noise-

 

“Ohmigod, thank you _so_ much, Kurt! I read that you’re supposed to use protection even just for oral intercourse- if you want to be responsible about it- but I’ve never actually applied a prophy-um-condom. Will you do it?”

 

Kurt reluctantly took the little foil packet, his cheeks burning. He had never used a condom either. Maybe it had been stupid and irresponsible of them, but he and David had both started out as virgins and they had trusted each other. It had been… romantic.

 

Kurt knew that gay culture was often conflated with hook-up culture. He knew that many other gay men viewed traditional long-term monogamy as not only naïve and unappealing but as a heteronormative subversion of their own way of life. But Kurt was, undeniably and, he realized, unashamedly, a romantic.

 

Kurt Hummel was an embarrassing, drippy prude, who only intended to have sex (though lots of it) with men that he was in love with. Their relationship might not be possible right now, but Kurt _loved_ David Karofsky, he really did. And he had been pretending this whole time not to notice- but even though the other boy had never actually said the words- he knew, absolutely, that David loved him too.

 

And maybe it would never work out, maybe they would never be together again- almost certainly they would not remain each other’s sole sexual partner for their entire lives- and even if they did get back together, they would eventually start having to use protection- but they would not have to use protection because Kurt had given an indifferent blowjob- that he hadn’t even registered agreeing to- to a boy that he was realizing he had no stronger feelings than friendship and grudging obligation towards.

 

He gingerly placed the condom on his nightstand and folded his hands in his lap.

 

“I am so sorry, Blaine. But if I’m really being honest right now…”

 

-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings this chapter for-
> 
> Klaine, underage sexual situations, ambivalent consent (Blaine initiates a sexual situation that Kurt feels ambivalent about and only continues out of obligation, but he stops it before any below the belt touching occurs).
> 
> Kurt romanticizes possessive love-bites, Kurt romanticizes unsafe sex, Kurt romanticizes monogamy and fears that it puts him at odds with certain factions of the gay community.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings (mild) in the end notes-

And so began an extremely long and frustrating conversation. Blaine seemed to be fundamentally incapable of believing that Kurt was really, actually, breaking up with him.

 

First he tried to lure Kurt back onto the bed like a skittish kitten- gingerly patting his shoulder and making what he must have imagined were soothing noises- while he explained at great length that it was okay if Kurt’s ‘past traumas’ had left him scared of sex- Blaine would wait until he was ready.

 

Eventually Kurt got annoyed enough to plainly state that he did like sex, very, very much- he just wasn’t interested in having any with Blaine, specifically.

 

Blaine’s eyes narrowed and he flipped from soothing reassurances to bitter accusations with alarming speed.

 

He hadn’t wanted to believe the gossip on the New Directions Facebook group (Kurt tried to ask how the hell Blaine was viewing their group page when it was set to members only, but couldn’t get a word in edgewise)- obviously, Blaine had been too trusting. He insinuated that Kurt had been sleeping with Sam, or Dave, or both behind his back.

 

Oh no. Kurt was not going to stand for that shit for the second time in as many weeks.

 

He began to list, in merciless detail, every single facet of Blaine’s appearance, grooming habits, personality and performance style that he found unattractive. When he started in on the shallow limits of both Blaine’s vocal range and repertoire – Blaine got a queasy look on his face and hastily capitulated.

 

Kurt had misunderstood him just now- he wasn’t _really_ accusing him of anything- this was all going so fast- maybe Kurt was right and they should slow it down – try being just friends for a while.

 

Kurt wasn’t sure that they were ready to be friends at this moment.

 

But then Blaine started an even longer and previously unimaginably irritating discussion about their perfect unshakeable friendship- and ways to preserve their camaraderie that sounded suspiciously similar to dating.

 

Kurt finally agreed that they could still go to prom together ‘as friends’ just to get Blaine out of the house (and because he couldn’t stand to go through that whole argument again in reverse when it had taken so much effort to get Blaine to _agree_ to go with him in the first place) (and because the only other possible escort he could get at this late date would be Jesse St. James- who had been trying to worm his way into the dance to mess with Rachel and Finn- and he hated that insufferable walking-perm).

 

-

 

With prom nearly upon them, Kurt set aside any lingering resentments he felt towards the female members of New Directions. It didn’t matter how evil Santana was- or how deeply, deeply clueless and self-involved Rachel continued to be- no matter how many lessons in humility she claimed to have learned. And it didn’t matter that – despite both of their best efforts- his friendship with Mercedes had never really recovered from her intrusive religious efforts during his dad’s coma.

 

He had been practicing on a lifetime of contraband Barbies in preparation for this event- it was his inalienable right to boss these bitches around and tell them what to wear and how to wear it- and every damn one of these whores was going to look spectacular!

 

There were tears, popped seams, arguments, curling iron burns, sequin emergencies, shapewear emergencies, shoe emergencies and entirely too much singing about feelings- but in the end they all looked simply lovely.

 

Privately, although he had made sure they were impeccable, Kurt thought they had all played it rather predictably safe- none of them could touch the elegance or edginess of his custom kilt. He had also given in to pettiness, just a little, by convincing Santana to go with a red dress that- though very flattering- he had seen another Cheerio buy the exact same version of while the she-devil was in the dressing room.

 

-

 

So Kurt walked into prom looking perfectly on point. His entourage was on point, his date might not be real, but at least looked like a matinee idol, and the gym was decorated as elegantly and romantically as one could expect from a rinky dink high school in rural Ohio.

 

He scanned the room- no longer pretending to himself that he was looking at the decorations or his classmates wardrobe failures- till at last he saw him. David. David looked tall and so broad-shouldered in a beautiful suit that could have fit him exquisitely, in a fair and just world, if Kurt had been allowed to tailor it to his own standards.

 

David looked up and Kurt’s fingers that had been tingling with the urge to nip in seams, tingled even more as he began to hyperventilate. He took a step forward, his eyes locked on David’s, and it seemed to him that David was moving towards him as well- when Santana suddenly stepped in front of David and reached up to adjust his red tie, which was the exact same shade as her dress.

 

Because he was her boyfriend. Despite whatever epiphanies Kurt might have had about loving David, the reasons they weren’t together anymore continued to be extremely real and valid.

 

Case in point- they could not be in a more public place- surrounded by every member of David’s peer group that he remained terrified of being exposed to.

 

Kurt forced himself to tear his gaze away from David- who was still looking at him over Santana’s head- and walk in the other direction. He wished he had averted his eyes sooner- so that he hadn’t had to see the way David’s face crumpled as Kurt avoided him.

 

-

 

Despite Santana’s best efforts David looked progressively more hunched in and despondent as the night wore on. He refused to do the Electric Slide or the Macarena or even to fist pump- when he had once made Kurt sit in the car while he lip-synced to the entirety of Bohemian Rhapsody, complete with accompanying hand gestures and head-banging, followed by a rousing chorus of Chumbawamba. The most animation he showed all night was sourly shouting-

 

“He doesn’t even go here!”

 

When Blaine took to the stage with a confusing number about not teaching someone’s boyfriend how to dance. Kurt was pretty sure that the song was meant as a pointed rebuke to him- but he didn’t understand the lyrics or what, exactly, he was being accused of (or how, exactly, Blaine had ended up on the set list when he had never, as far as Kurt knew, even met Mr. Schuester).

 

Nevertheless he slow-danced with Blaine afterwards, because Blaine wanted him to postmortem every note of the performance with him. He saw David over Blaine’s shoulder. The look of pure misery on his face squeezed at Kurt’s chest.

 

Kurt lowered his hand from Blaine’s shoulder- he was about to make his way across the dance floor, judgmental peer group be damned, when the music faded out and the prom court nominees were called to the stage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings this chapter- Blaine assumes that Kurt is sexually traumatized, refuses to take him at his word and attempts to manipulate him. Kurt has mildly sexist thoughts about his female friends, treating them like dolls, anti-religious resentment towards Mercedes, and covertly undermines Santana.
> 
> This chapter takes place during Prom Queen.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings in the end notes-

 

David’s eyes stayed on Kurt, even as Santana hustled him up to the stage. He looked sick with nerves. Kurt tried to project reassurance at him with a wide smile.

 

He had voted for David, since Finn had been too wrapped up in Rachel-Jesse drama and Rachel-regular-comes-with-the-territory drama to run for prom court. He’d put Kate Middleton as a write-in candidate for queen though. No way in hell was he voting for its spawn, Santana, and he didn’t care enough to pick between Quinn and Lauren.

 

David looked dumbfounded, but also a tiny bit happy, for the first time that night (for the first time in weeks), when his name was announced. Kurt grinned up at him as he swaggered over to his throne with a crown perched at a ridiculous angle on his head, then prepared to a do very grudging golf-clap for Santana, as she stepped forward with a smug look on her face-

 

But Principal Figgins monotoned something about a write-in winner-

 

Everyone else voted for Kate Middleton too? Kurt thought for a split second-

 

Before Figgins tonelessly but unmistakably said that this year’s prom queen was-

 

“Kurt Hummel.”

 

Prom Queen. Kurt Hummel. Queen.

 

The gym was silent. Kurt looked around. His friends looked confused. A lot of people looked confused. But a lot of other people _didn’t_ look confused. A lot of people were watching him with cold eyes and knowing smiles.

 

A group of the football and hockey players that had been disciplined the hardest by the Bully Whips were standing together in a clump, looking particularly pleased with themselves.

 

“Kurt,” Blaine whispered in his ear, tugging him discreetly towards the exit, “I’ll get you out of here, don’t worry.”

 

Kurt’s chin trembled- he wondered if he would be able to make it out the doors before they saw him cry-

 

But, before Kurt could move, David let out a furious bellow and sprang from his throne so violently that it toppled over with a loud boom.

 

“You dipshits think this is funny?” He grabbed the mic from Figgins. “Kurt Hummel is worth a hundred of you losers, and you all know it! You’re just fucking jealous that he’s gonna get out of here and be famous. He’s gonna change the world while all you bitter bitches sit in this shitty town, squeezing out shitty babies, for the rest of your shitty lives.”

 

He stomped off the stage, eyes narrowing as he marched up to the gang of jocks.

 

“Whose bright idea was this?” He made eye contact with each jock in turn, thrusting his face threateningly into their personal space.

 

Most of them tried to step back or look away, but the hockey player with a ginger mullet stared right back at him with a nasty smirk.

 

“Got something to confess, Nelson?”

 

“What are you gonna do about it, Karofsky? You’ve been nothing but a joke at this school since you let Ho-pez cut off your balls.”

 

David cocked his arm back, preparing to take a swing. “I’m gonna kil-”

 

Kurt and, to his surprise, Santana sprang forward. Kurt grabbed David’s cocked arm and dragged him backwards, Santana pushed between him and Nelson and slapped a hand over David’s mouth.

 

“No actionable threats in front of multiple witnesses!” She hissed in David’s ear. Then she rolled her head back towards the jocks, not entirely unlike The Exorcist.

 

“This isn’t over, pendejos. The Bully Whips are going to take a brief recess to go over the dirt- go over the _evidence_ we’ve collected on all you mouth breathers. And somebody better be ready to confess by the time we get back- or I might just actually cut off some balls. Metaphorically speaking, that was a purely hypothetical statement and cannot be used as evidence of intent in a court of law.”

 

David started edging around Santana while she was talking, a murderous gleam still in his eye, as he tried to get at Nelson again. But, between Santana jabbing her elbow into his solar plexus and Kurt hauling on his arm, they managed to herd him out the exit before he could do more than yell some very colorful curse words at Nelson.

 

“Gonna hurl.” David mumbled as soon as the gym doors clanged shut behind them.

 

He staggered down the hall to the boy’s bathroom, Kurt and Santana chased after him.

 

Kurt glared at Santana as she nonchalantly patted at her hair in the bathroom mirror, seemingly unbothered by the loud retching noises coming from the stall behind her.

 

“Is he drunk? Did you get him drunk? We all made a pledge to Mr. Schuester!”

 

“Ok, can you even hear yourself and how incredibly lame you sound? Unlike you, Hummel, Dave and I are _cool_ and it’s _prom_. Of course we’re drunk. Whatever, he’ll be fine now that he spewed. It would take like three dedicated kegs to keep someone with his BMI lit all night.”

 

“Forgive me if don’t take your word for it, alcohol poisoning is a real thing, and you don’t strike me as someone who’s been paying that much attention in health class.”

 

“Oh, was that supposed to be a crack about how slutty I am? Cuz it was weak and pretentiously over-complicated, just like everything you do. Next time you should go with something more direct, for example- at least I learned enough to use rubbers unlike you, the Bareback Boy Wonder.”

 

Kurt’s chest squeezed painfully. Knowing that David had told Santana something so private and intimate about his relationship with Kurt suddenly hurt worse than all of the actual sex he’d been imagining them having.

 

“If you know about that, then you know that David will never really want you without whatever sick, selfish scheme you’re holding over his head- not that any straight boys ever want you either for anything besides the obvious- not once they see how ugly you are on the inside.”

 

“I knew it! I knew it was you, you blew up my spot to Quinn, before I could seal the deal with Sam, and you squashed the solo I was supposed to get at Sectionals- you pathetic, jealous little queen!”

 

“Yes Santana, you got me- I’ve been Single White Femaling you, because I’m sooo jealous of your glamorous life as the biggest bitch in all of Lima Heights. Excuse me if I tried to save the glee club from being torn apart by your self-serving, malicious schemes.”

 

“Ooh, Saint Hummel, Our Lady of the tepid, two-faced bullshit. You’re as big of a bitch as me on the inside- you just keep it on the downlow. How many times did you sabotage Jewish Carrie, back before she had Finn wrapped around her finger, and you could still get away with it? I bet you rigged the prom queen vote yourself, you conniving attention-whore!”

 

“Careful, people who live in glass houses, shouldn’t call anyone else a _whore_.”

 

Crack! Santana slapped Kurt across the face as hard as she could.

 

There was an outraged bellow from the stalls, David lumbered out and threw himself between them. He gently cradled Kurt’s jaw and inspected the bright red perfectly defined handprint on his cheek.

 

“I’m so sorry, baby! I won’t ever let her get near you again. Let’s go to the nurse’s office and get you some ice- oh shit, it’s probably closed- that’s ok, I can probably break the door in and get you-”

 

Kurt’s hand rose to cover David’s. “It’s ok, I’m fine. It was just a smack, I don’t need any ice.”

 

“Are you sure? I can take you to the hospital, at least let me get you home safe-”

 

“Oh no you don’t Big Fun, we had a deal! You’re not drunk-driving your giant ass anywhere except back inside that gym, to help me do damage control on this crapstravaganza.”

 

“It’s over, Santana. Tell everyone about me, I don’t fucking care anymore. I did everything you ordered me to and the one thing- the _one_ thing- that I asked for was to keep Kurt safe. And instead we riled everyone up until they pulled this bullshit on him, and then you try to blame him for _our_ fucking mess, and you put. Your. Fucking. Hands on him!”

 

“Ugh, you’re so whipped! He dumped you like yesterday’s trash so he could go after that rich-boy Gargler, and yet you’re still panting after him like a kicked dog! I was blackmailing you for your own good, dumbass. We just need to stick with the program and build up a power base at this school, and then we can both have what we want- even if you have seriously questionable taste.”

 

“Ha! You admit it!” Kurt ducked out of David’s protective embrace and rounded on Santana.

 

“You _were_ blackmailing him! Never again, Santana. I’m going to be gracious and let your verbal and physical attacks against me slide, because I’m not proud of some of the things I called you just now- and because I’ve always secretly wanted to get diva-slapped, like in [Bette Davis Eyes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EPOIS5taqA8)\- but if you ever threaten David again- I would never resort to violence- but I will _destroy you_. I will call your mother and tell her that you volunteered to scrub bedpans at the retirement home all summer. I will sneak into your house while you sleep and cut out your hair extensions. I will tell Coach Sylvester that you called her last routine Bring It On 12- A Direct to DVD Salute to Menopause.”

 

“Kurt-”

 

“Hush, David, I won’t let her torture you anymore.”

 

Kurt pressed a breath mint into David’s palm and began smoothing out his rumpled suit over his broad shoulders.

 

“You’re not going to be outed because of her, or me, or those narrow-minded idiots in the gym, or anyone except yourself- on your own terms, in your own time. Now come on, the only way to beat them is to not give them the satisfaction. I’m going to accept that tacky, plastic crown and roll my eyes like it doesn’t matter because, honestly, I don’t give one single shit what those people say about me, as long as they leave you out of it. And we’ll dance together for half a minute- just to show them that dancing with another boy won’t make a portal to hell open up beneath the gym floor- and then Santana will cut in-”

 

He looked at her with disgust but tried to continue in a pleasant tone-

 

“I’ll casually pass her the crown, and you two will waltz like a goddamn Disney movie while I fade discreetly into the background. Then, in a few days, Santana will tell everyone that David dumped her- but he was a perfect gentleman, and she will always remember him fondly as the best she ever had or- so help me- I will put all of her bras in the dryer.”

 

David blinked down at Kurt, at a loss for words. Santana looked pretty pissed off but she shrugged and nodded.

 

-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings this chapter-
> 
> Bullying (as in canon), underage drinking, vomiting, Santana slaps Kurt, Dave makes violent threats, Santana and Kurt make borderline violent threats, Santana and Kurt attack each other with a wide variety of homophobic, misogynistic, and slut-shaming language


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings in the end notes, tags have also been added-

 

Santana forced both boys to link arms with her as David pushed the gym doors open.

 

“United front, losers,” she hissed between her teeth, pasting on a bright smile.

 

Kurt did his best to ignore the crowd as they marched up to the stage, but the music was still off and he could feel everyone staring at him. He lifted his chin- screw ‘em all.

 

He walked right up to Figgins and held out his hand impatiently for the scepter then bent his head, allowing Figgins to ruin his hairdo with the crown, like he had ruined the school with his utter incompetence as an administrator.

 

Kurt swept his eyes over his classmates. He hoped that at least some of them were sensitive enough to feel the blistering contempt in his gaze.

 

“I see you’ve all heard the rumors- but I can neither confirm nor deny that I’m 7th in line for the British throne!”

 

He was met by confused looks and scattered, feeble applause. Right, subtlety was wasted on this audience.

 

“Eat your hearts outs, peasants!” Kurt struck a pose and pumped his tacky scepter in the air.

 

“Whoo!” yelled Finn, clapping enthusiastically. “Kurt, Kurt, Kurt!” he chanted, stomping his feet in time.

 

The rest of the glee club hastily picked up the chant, David definitely bellowed ‘Kurt, Kurt!’ the loudest, and he gave the people around him the stink-eye until they joined in.

 

Somehow the entire crowd of students that had looked so pleased by Kurt’s humiliation a few minutes ago began cheering along, and the entire gym reverberated as they all yelled his name over and over.

 

Ok, apparently mobs just really loved chanting crap in unison- Kurt would have to remember that if he ever tried to rule the world for real. Principal Figgins seemed entirely oblivious to the crowd as he announced the prom king and queen dance- Kurt suspected his tone would have been exactly the same if they had been hissing and throwing tomatoes.

 

Kurt stepped hesitantly towards David as Santana and Mercedes began humming the opening bars of, great, Dancing Queen.  
  
"Oh goody, even the song choice is humiliating," Kurt muttered to David. "Let's just get this dance over wi-"  
  
David stomped right past him over to the band and clapped a hand over Santana's microphone, whispering fiercely at her.  
  
Kurt sighed. Maybe it made more sense for David to start dancing with her from the get go, but it still stung.  
  
But David didn't lead Santana onto the floor. He waved some sheet music around while talking to the band, then swung around and pointed at various male glee clubbers in the audience.  
  
"You, you," he beckoned over Sam and Puck, " _Not_ you!" Blaine had stepped forward hopefully at the prospect of more singing, "And Hudson, I guess."  
  
The glee boys squinted doubtfully at the sheet music, the band raised their instruments, unfazed, and David was suddenly in front of Kurt again with his hand extended.  
  
Kurt placed his shaking fingers in David's warm grip and allowed himself to be lead onto the dance floor. The song David had picked began with some odd yelling part, which Puck was certainly giving his all to. David swung Kurt around gently by their clasped hands and pulled him into his arms.  
  
Warm, cinnamon-scented breath, courtesy of the half a dozen breath mints Santana had shoved down David's throat while he was talking to the band, gusted against Kurt's cheek. David squeezed Kurt to his chest and began to move with the music.

 

[Don't you ever, don't you ever](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6aLyWGgC8tU)

 

Stop being dandy, showing me you're handsome

 

 

"What is this?" Kurt scrunched his forehead. "I thought you only liked earnest, blue-collar 80's music, David- not frilly new wave synthpop."

 

Prince Charming

 

Prince Charming

 

Ridicule is nothing to be scared of

 

Don't you ever, don't you ever

 

Stop being dandy, showing me you're handsome

  


"Showing me you're _fan-cy_." David sang into his ear. "Picked this song for you, cuz you're a prince. You're handsome and fancy and you're so good. Gooder than all these assholes."

  


"Gooder's not a word."

  


"See? Gooder at vocabulary and everything. I was gonna sing this for you when it was my turn, but this is better."

  


Kurt's eyes prickled. "You were going to sing this for me? In front of everyone?"

 

"You're so brave all the time, Kurt. You deserve to have it celebrated... You make me so ashamed of myself."

  


"No, David, no, no! You have nothing to be ashamed of! I'm so proud of you, of how far you've come this year, all the work you've done on yourself and everything you're doing to make this school safer."

  


The song wasn't really made for slow dancing but David pulled him even closer and snuffled wetly against Kurt's shoulder.

  


Don't you ever, don't you ever

 

Lower yourself, forgetting all your standards

 

 

"Sorry," David relaxed his grip a little. "I don't mean to make you uncomfortable, or to make your boyfriend jealous." He flicked his eyes at Blaine, who was staring daggers at them.

 

Kurt's cheeks burned. "You don't make me uncomfortable, and you better not have picked this song because you thought me being with you was 'lowering my standards-' nothing could be further from the truth. I just feel a little guilty, because - as awful as this whole thing has been- it was also totally my fantasy to dance with you like this, at prom, for everyone to see, and I know you never wanted it-"

 

"I always wanted it Kurt, I was just such a coward compared to you."

 

"You are not a coward! You had very reasonable fears that have been proven more than justified by the terrible behavior of our classmates tonight. And it's not like I'm much better either. Blaine isn't my boyfriend. I- I was only dating him to make you jealous."

 

David looked stunned. "You were trying to make me jealous? But you- didn't you dump me because you wanted to be with him?"

 

"Of course not! David, I told you why when it happened- you acted like you understood! I didn't _want_ to break up with you- I had to, because you sang that song about how being gay was a sin, and you were ashamed of us!"

 

"What? I didn't- Kurt I used to think being gay was wrong, before we were together- but the way I feel about you, it's the purest, strongest thing I've ever felt- it makes me want to be better, to be worthy- there's no way feeling like that can be a sin. That song was about how wrong I was to use you for sex all the time. I tried to justify it in my head, cuz I hoped we would get married someday, so it wouldn't have been so much of a sin- and I know you don't really get religion- but I shouldn't have compromised you like that, baby."

 

Kurt blinked away tears. "I have missed being compromised by you so much, David. I-"

 

The song ended, but they continued to sway together.

 

"Never mind, this isn't the time. You should dance with Santana now, stick to the plan."

 

"I don't want to dance with Santana. She hit you, I'm not doing anything to help her ever again. What were you about to say?"

 

"It's to help _you_ , not her-" The band leader gestured for Kurt, "Shit, I have to go sing now. We can talk in private later, just, I picked this song because Mr. Schuester wanted me to sing a Beatles number, but don't worry about the lyrics- I don't really feel- I mean I do have feelings for- but I did not pick this song to pressure you, or call you out, or-"

 

David tried to pull Kurt close again, "Kurt, wait-"

 

"Later," Kurt mouthed as he slipped out of his arms and hurried over to the band.

 

Kurt took deep, shuddering breaths as he adjusted the microphone that Finn had been using a good half a foot lower. How was he supposed to sing with his stomach roiling and his heart jammed halfway up his throat?

 

Santana shot a confused, pissy glare at the crown still perched on Kurt’s head (crap, he was supposed to have handed it off to her, right?) as she joined David and tried to rest her hand on his shoulder for the next dance- but David shook her off, still staring unabashedly up at Kurt.

 

This was all Kurt’s fault! This was not the plan- people were paying more attention to David now, not less. David was drunk, he couldn’t safeguard his own best interests- Kurt was supposed to be protecting his reputation for him, but it was all unraveling. He closed his eyes. He just needed to get through this song, and then they could get David out of the public eye.

 

He opened his eyes again as the band hit his cue. Terrible idea. David caught his gaze immediately and Kurt couldn’t force himself to look away- couldn’t pretend.

 

[I don't like you](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uqi6ZDfZmPA)

 

 

Kurt shook his head, willing David to understand- that wasn’t true, not anymore.

  
But I love you

 

 

His cheeks burned, because this part was all too true, and he was sure it was obvious.

  
Seems that I'm always

  
Thinking of you

  
Oh, oh, oh

  
You treat me badly

  
I love you madly

  
You've really got a hold on me

  
You've really got a hold on me, baby

  
  
Kurt’s voice rasped on the ‘baby.’ He had never called David baby before- but he remembered all the times David had called _him_ baby- usually when overcome with emotion.

 

He kept singing distractedly. David was walking closer and closer to the stage, eyes glassy, like that time Kurt had sung in Rachel’s basement, almost as if he was sleepwalking.

  
I love you and all I want you to do

  
Is just hold me-

 

 

David walked right up to the foot of the stage and stretched up his arms- Kurt shook his head frantically-

 

-hold me, hold me, hold m-  


David grasped Kurt by the hips and pulled him right off the stage- he slid his hands under Kurt’s thighs, urging them to wrap around his waist. Right when Kurt was supposed to have sung ‘Tighter’ David captured his lips in a deep kiss. And squeezed him tighter.

 

He swayed to the beat of the rapidly unraveling music and squeezed Kurt still tighter yet, as he continued to ravish his lips.  


“Da-” Kurt tore his lips away and whispered frantically, “David- David you have to stop, everyone will see!”

 

“I think the ship has sailed on that one, Fancy.” David dipped his head down for another kiss.

 

“This isn’t right,” Kurt moaned, even as he kissed David back, “you’re drunk.”

 

“I’m not really drunk anymore, I yakked most of it up, I promise, and I don’t care. I love you- I love you so much more than I care what any of these jerkoffs think!”

 

“I love you too.” Kurt whispered through sudden tears.

 

“You hear that, Lima Losers?” David crowed, swinging around to face the stunned crowd. “I love Kurt Hummel, and he loves me, and you can all eat it!”

 

“Fuck it!” Santana marched over to Brittany and swept her into a filthy kiss. “And I love Brittany S. Pierce!”

 

Brittany returned the kiss with extra tongue. “I love Santana Lopez!”

 

“Is this a Spartacus situation?” asked Puck, grimacing and reaching awkwardly towards Finn. Finn shied away from him.

 

“David Karofsky is gay? _David_?” Rachel pointed at him, outraged. “But your favorite television program is WWE Monday Night Raw!”

 

“I’m invested in the storylines,” David sniffed, “And that’s Dave or Mr. Karofsky, _sir_ , to you, Berry.”

 

“Santana loves Brittany?” Kurt was just as shocked as Rachel. “Santana can feel human emotions? Brittany is an actual, real-life bisexual?”

 

“Obviously, Kurt, where have you been?” Rachel went straight from outrage to smug lecture mode. “That’s why Artie flipped out and Brittany dumped him- and why they sang that incredibly emotionally-charged song with Ms. Holliday- and if you had helped me start a PFLAG chapter- like I’ve been asking you to for the last two years- you wouldn’t be so uneducated about bisexuality.”

 

Kurt looked around at the glee club members, who had formed a vaguely protective circle around them- although, despite plenty of outraged murmurs and disgusted looks, nobody in the gym looked like they were about to attack.

 

They had kind of broken prom. The band had wheezed to a stop when Kurt had been swept off the stage, mid-song, and never started up again. People were starting to leave.

 

“Wait- so if everyone but me knew about Brittany and Santana- did everyone but Rachel know about me and David?”

 

He was met by a ring of rolling eyes.

 

“You guys are not discreet.” said Tina.

 

“ _Not discreet_!” echoed Artie.

 

“Couldn’t you see how keeping it secret was killing us? Why didn’t any of you say anything?” Kurt couldn’t believe all that pain had been nothing.

 

“Cuz we were afraid Karofsky would hulk out and go on a gay panic rampage.” Puck shrugged.

 

“And just fyi-” said Santana, “that scraggly bush behind the cafeteria is not a solid wall, nor is it soundproof.”

 

“That bush was my first crush and you defiled it.” Brittany shook her head.

 

“Yeah, sorry bro- your room is also not soundproof, no matter how loud you play the soundtrack to Rent.” Finn shuddered.

 

“And it defeats the purpose of hiding in the teacher’s bathroom if you bang up against the door till the whole hallway rattles.” said Puck.

 

“The- the staff bathroom in the music wing?” Miss Pillsbury had been doing her ineffectual best as a chaperone, she had spent most of the night compulsively straightening centerpieces and cleaning up used cups and plates, while wearing industrial strength gloves- but now her eyes widened in horror.

 

“Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no, why didn’t I buy that portable black light kit? I’m only at school for 11 hours, most days, why didn’t I just _hold_ it?”

 

While everyone was distracted by Miss Pillsbury’s oncoming panic attack, Kurt and David slunk guiltily away. Straight to the staff bathroom, which they defiled just once more, for old time’s sake- since they were pretty sure the code would be changed in the morning- and Kurt would not be entrusted with it again.

 

-

 

They spent so long in the bathroom that, when they came back to the dance, the lights had been dimmed and the gym was completely empty.

 

David looked around and smirked at Kurt. He picked the throne back up, which no one had fixed since he knocked it over hours ago, and sat in it, spreading his legs and slapping his thighs suggestively and waggled his eyebrows in what Kurt assumed was meant to be a come-hither fashion.

 

His smirked disappeared pretty quickly when Kurt swung his leg right over David’s lap and plopped down, grinding his ass against David’s thighs.

 

“Jesus!” David gasped, as Kurt attacked his front- pulling off his tie, ripping open his dress shirt, and flicking open his belt buckle in a matter of seconds.

 

David’s straining erection sprang free as soon as Kurt opened his fly, smacking against his belly. Kurt wrapped his fist around it and rubbed his thumb against the drop of precome that beaded the tip.

 

“Fuck!” David threw his head back and thrust helplessly into Kurt’s grip.

 

“Only if you have lube,” Kurt teased, nibbling at the underside of David’s chin.

 

“Check my pockets. Santana made me be her walking purse.”

 

“She is so _evil_! She knows perfectly well that pocket bulges ruin the lines of a suit!”

 

“I got a bulge right here- wanna work it out for me?”

 

“You’re not cute.” Nevertheless Kurt gave David’s bulge another squeeze.

 

Kurt abruptly let go of David’s dick, to his vocal displeasure, and began to dig around in pockets, dragging the process out to get in more groping.

 

Kurt found: a flask, which he frowned at and tossed towards the trash- the cinnamon breath mints, he put one in his mouth and leaned up to kiss David, transferring it past David’s lips with his tongue- a switchblade, which he set aside gingerly, grateful that his fight with Santana hadn’t escalated as much as it might have- and, eventually, lube and a condom.

 

Kurt turned the condom over in his hands.

 

“Did anything happen while we were broken up, that- it’s ok if it did, you had every right- I just need to know if we have to use this.”

 

“No,” David shook his head seriously, “I never wanted anyone except you, and Santana couldn’t have been less interested- it was all this elaborate plot to get Brittany to go out with her- to be honest it didn’t make a lot of logical sense to me.”

 

“I don’t think Brittany really responds to logic, and hey- apparently it worked.”

 

David took a deep breath. “Did anything happen… with you…that…”

 

“No,” Kurt smiled at David, his eyes shining, “I never wanted anyone except you.”

 

He took David’s face in his hands and pulled him into a gentle kiss.

 

“I think we will have to start being more careful. But not tonight.”

 

“Tonight is special,” David rubbed his nose against Kurt’s.

 

“Yes it is,” Kurt nuzzled him back, “also, from now on, every time they make use come to some fascist pep rally in this gym where they tried to humiliate us, they’ll be running around on top of our spunk.”

 

David snorted, then he groaned and grabbed Kurt’s ass under his kilt and ground up against him.

 

Kurt moaned into David’s mouth and kneeled up, allowing David to peel down his leggings with his big hands.

 

“Missed you so much, baby. So fuckin sexy, strutting around in this fucking kilt thing all night, making me crazy. Fuuuccckkk!” David hissed when he discovered that Kurt was commando under the leggings.

 

He grabbed a greedy handful of Kurt’s bare ass and fumbled his other hand under the front of Kurt’s kilt to squeeze Kurt’s rapidly hardening dick.

 

Kurt reluctantly pulled David’s hand off his dick and squeezed a generous amount of lube into it. He bundled his kilt up out of the way and leaned into David’s chest, tilting his ass up as high as he could.

 

Kurt moaned and sobbed into David’s hairy pecs as he worked over Kurt’s hole. It had been so long and David still knew his body so well- knew when to rub gentle rings around his rim, when to lightly spank it, when to knead at his ass cheeks, and when to fuck Kurt open on his thick fingers, thrust in as deep as they could go.

 

David’s crown fell over his eyes as he looked down and carefully slicked up his cock. He urged Kurt up onto shaky legs and turned him around, holding him up by his hips, guiding him carefully- David’s chest pressed along the length of Kurt’s back as he pressed the wide head of his cock against Kurt’s well-prepared hole.

 

“Ready?” David kissed the side of Kurt’s cheek.

 

Kurt twisted his head to meet David’s lips and tried to slam himself down into his lap- but David kept a firm grip on Kurt’s hips and pushed into him slowly, so slowly- feeding his seemingly never-ending length into Kurt until he thought he would pass out. And then he pulled out, just as slow, just as long, then pushed back in with the maddening regularity of a metronome.

 

David continued his careful pace while Kurt writhed and cursed on top of him, trying to bounce on David’s cock, but pinned in place by David’s heavy grip on his hips.

 

David’s slow pumps had long ceased to meet any friction and had lulled Kurt into almost a trancelike state, when, without warning, he lifted Kurt up then slammed him down _hard_ as he thrust up deep and brutally.

 

David speared into him faster and faster now. Where his original pace had been frustratingly slow- now he was jackhammering Kurt with merciless speed and power. Kurt cried out as David raised and lowered him onto his cock as if he weighed no more than a rag doll- fucking into him with greedy urgency.

 

Kurt writhed around bonelessly, almost overbalancing. David let go of his hips to wrap his arms around Kurt’s chest and pull him securely back against his torso. Kurt’s head lolled back against David’s shoulder, his forgotten crown got in the way and he shook his head impatiently to knock it out of the way. David craned to alternately thrust his tongue into Kurt’s mouth and bite at his exposed neck.

 

Free to move his hips at last- Kurt braced his hands on David’s thighs and bounced.

 

David growled against Kurt’s neck and repaid each bounce with increasingly savage thrusts.

 

The sound of their flesh smacking together filled the echoing gym as they fucked each other with furious intensity. Only David’s solid stance kept the throne from toppling over again. Kurt rotated and angled his hips as he rode David like an animal- he shouted victoriously when he found the right angle and David stroked against his prostate.

 

He made a frustrated noise when he missed the angle on the next stroke, but nothing got by David’s laser focus when it came to Kurt’s ass. He aimed his cock with scientific precision and rammed against Kurt’s prostate.

 

Kurt scrabbled at the thick arms wrapped around his chest, pinning him in place, and gave a hiccuping wail each time David nailed his poor prostate as he punched into him with his thick, relentless cock.

 

Kurt’s cries increased in urgency as his balls tightened- the base of his spine tingled- his abused prostate became unbearably sensitive.

 

David dropped a hand down and pulled up the front of Kurt’s kilt. He took Kurt’s burning erection in his pitiless grip and stroked and twisted at it till Kurt was writhing alternately back against the cock spearing him open and up into the fist wringing him dry.

 

David dropped his hand to fondle Kurt’s balls as he thrust his cock as deep as it would go and his own balls smacked into Kurt’s from behind. Kurt screamed and shot his load onto the polished gym floor.

 

Kurt came down from a fizzing, buzzing white haze. He felt weightless, like the only things keeping him from floating up the ceiling were David’s arms around him and the enormous shaft rooted inside him, still pumping and pumping into his ass. Kurt could tell though, from the erratic rhythm of David’s thrusts and the way he was shivering and gasping, that he was close.

 

Kurt pushed his shaky hands against David’s thighs and leaned his weight back against his chest. He lifted himself up off of David’s dick with a hiss.

 

He reached between his legs and pulled David’s cock between his thighs, when he looked down he could just see the red, angry tip poking out to one side of his own softening length.

 

“You too. Come all over their fucking state-of-the-art imported athletic flooring.”

 

David groaned into the crook of Kurt’s neck and slid his sticky length into the crux of his thighs. Within a few strokes he was spilling an impressive amount of warm come- mostly down Kurt’s leg- but also slightly onto the expensive gym floor.

 

Kurt eyed their mess with drowsy satisfaction. He was going to clean it up, of course. He wasn’t a monster and none of this was the janitor’s fault. But he would always know that they had come all over this room- what other people didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them- as long as no one on future dance committees picked black light rave as a theme.

 

“I love you.” David mumbled into Kurt’s neck.

 

Kurt twisted around to push David’s dumb crown off and kiss his temple.

 

“I love you too. Did Santana make you carry any wet wipes? Because if this lube you smeared on my hand-stitched jacket doesn’t come out I’m going to have to kill you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings this chapter-
> 
> Underage drinking, brief reference to past vomiting, David makes major life decisions while slightly intoxicated
> 
> Semi-Public sex- Kurt and David find out that their previous encounters weren't as private as they thought, Kurt and David do sexual things in the staff bathroom even after they realize that people know they use it for trysts and that it severely upsets Miss Pillsbury, Kurt and David have sex in the gym after everyone else has left
> 
> Come Marking- Kurt deliberately marks the gym floor with his and David's come as an act of revenge against the student body
> 
> Miss Pillsbury is unable to resist the compulsion to clean things, preventing her from attending to her other duties, and she has a panic attack when she realizes that Kurt and David have also gotten their bodily fluids all over the staff bathroom
> 
> Various glee club members display slight homophobia, Kurt displays slight biphobia, Brittany was once attracted to a bush shaped sort of like a person
> 
> Prince Charming- Written by Adam Ant & Marco Pirroni as performed by Adam and the Ants on the album of the same name  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6aLyWGgC8tU
> 
> You've Really Got A Hold On Me- Written by Smokey Robinson, as performed by the Beatles on the album With the Beatles  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uqi6ZDfZmPA
> 
> This is the final regular chapter of the story, there will be an epilogue.


End file.
